Not a Very British War
by Roobarb
Summary: What would you give up for love? Complete
1. Whatever this game is, it's not cricket

Disclaimer: MASH ain't mine. D'ya think I'd be sitting here at this time of day if it was?

**Not a Very British War**

**Whatever This Game Is, It's Not Cricket**

Hawkeye Pierce leaned nonchalantly against the wall of the Swamp, a martini glass in hand. As he stood looking out over the camp of the 4077th MASH unit as it awoke to face another day in Korea, his closest friend, BJ Hunnicut, stepped through the door and took up a position similar to Hawkeye's on the other side of the opening. They looked across at one another and raised their glasses in a silent salute.

"Shall we do it?" asked Hawkeye.

"Yes, let's!" replied BJ.

They cleared their throats theatrically, and then yelled with deafening volume.

"ENEMY ATTACK! EVACUATE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!"

The door of the Swamp flew open, and a large, middle-aged man bounded through it, coming to rest a few paces forward in the middle of the compound. His hair, framing a smooth bald head, was standing at worrying angles, and he clutched his robe to him like an elderly lady clutching her handbag. His eyes were wide with fear and were darting nervously about the compound. It took a moment for him to register the hysterical laughter which was coming from behind him. Turning, he saw both Hawkeye and BJ clutching one another with tears rolling down their cheeks. This was Major Charles Emmerson Winchester III. And he'd just fallen for the latest episode of 'Chucklebaiting' by the two Captains. He was not amused.

"Sorry, Chuckles!" wheezed BJ, as Hawkeye slid to the ground and began pounding on the dirt. "Our mistake, it must've been a jeep backfiring!"

'Chuckles' was about to let the two manic surgeons in front of him know exactly what he thought of their 'mistake', but was stopped by a jeep coming skidding to a halt a few feet away. Wiping their tears, Hawkeye and BJ clapped Charles on his back as they walked over to find out what was going on. Company Clark Corporal Walter 'Radar' O'Reilly had already hurried out to greet the young woman who had stepped down from the jeep and was unloading her bags from the back. He was subjecting her to a barrage of information while she struggled with her case. Hawkeye thought that she couldn't be more than her mid-twenties, with dark hair tied neatly in a bun at the nape of her neck. Her uniform indicated that she was not US Army, and its dark green serge looked almost colourful in comparison to the drab khaki which dominated life in camp.

"Well, hello Your Majesty! Welcome to our humble palace, Hawkeye Pierce at your service!" Hawkeye bowed low, and as he straightened he smiled wildly at the newcomer. She looked puzzled.

"Um, thank you. I'm Capt. Sally Lester, British Army Medical Corps." She looked around her new surroundings. "Wondering why the hell I'm here now…"

BJ laughed out loud, "Oh that's something we're all trying to work out, let's introduce you to Colonel Potter."

They led her over to the CO's tent, chatting as they went.

"So," said Hawkeye, "I'm guessing from your accent and uniform that you don't hail from one of the 48 states?"

"My goodness, you must be a doctor!" she laughed in response. "You'd be right, I'm from Hampshire. The original Hampshire, in England."

"Well, Sally, as I said I'm Hawkeye Pierce, and this is Capt BJ Hunnicut. We're the entertainment around here, and when we get bored with that we go shrapnel hunting in the bodies of young men!"

Sally winced at this comment. She looked closely at the gangly surgeon who was holding the door open for her. He was taller than her, and stooped slightly. His black hair flopped forward into his eyes, which were the bluest she'd ever seen. His smile threw her completely, it was magnetic. Suddenly aware of the fact she was gazing at him for longer than was polite, she snapped back into the real world and stepped through the doors to greet her new commanding officer.

As she passed in front of them, Hawkeye rubbed his hands together in delight. "Oh yeah, still got it baby!" he chuckled.

"I wouldn't say that too loud, Hawkeye" said BJ, "I don't think she'll want to catch whatever it is you've got!"

They were about to follow her through the door to eavesdrop, when Radar came flying out between them.

"Oh, oh!" he exclaimed, breathlessly "Choppers! And they sound loaded!" He took off in the direction of the helipad, and the two men left standing at the tent door shrugged at each other as they headed towards the operation room. The tannoy crackled into life.

"ATTENTION ALL PERSONNEL! ATTENTION ALL PERSONNEL! GRAB YOUR PARTNERS FOR A MILITARY TWO-STEP! EVERYONE TO YOUR POSITION PLEASE!"

BJ looked over at his friend as they watched the stretchers being carried down the hill. "Not a very nice introduction for your little lady, is it?"

"She's a quick learner!" he yelled back, as the loaded jeeps pulled closer, "And I'm a good teacher!"

oOo

Eight hours later, they were finally coming to the end of the stream of blasted bodies which would haunt their dreams that night. Capt Lester was proving to be a deft surgeon, despite being inexperienced in some procedures. Her arrival gave them a surgeon over, which allowed her to call for help when she needed it. She was fiercely independent, however, and as soon as she got the gist of what was being said, she would take it up and carry on herself. She spent a large portion of her time in the OR barking instructions at the nursing staff, which more than upset some of them.

"Clamp, nurse. NOW!" she exclaimed, exasperated.

"No need to be so forceful, Doctor" Margaret Houlihan replied in clipped tones, "Try and remember I am your superior in rank."

Sally's dark eyes flashed back at her over her mask. "And try and remember that I am trying to stop this young man bleeding to death whilst you daydream."

BJ and Hawkeye glanced at each other with a knowing look. This one was not going to be a push over.

The last patient was brought in and placed on Sally's table. When she opened him up, his condition was much worse than they'd thought.

"Dear God, it's like a colander in here," she whispered, "Where the blazes do I start?"

"You OK there?" BJ asked her. "I can assist if you like, I'm nearly done here."

"I'm fine," she relied, rather too abruptly. "Thank you, though." she added in a more gentle tone.

She began her work on what was left of the young man's bowel.

"Suction please, nurse" she said, as the cavity began to fill with blood. But as fast as it was removed, it began to fill up again. "Where the hell is that coming from?" she thought. Digging deeper, she was suddenly hit in the face by a spurt of very dark, red blood.

"Oh buggeration!" she exclaimed, "His liver's in pieces." She began to scrabble frantically in the depths of his abdomen, knowing full well that there was very little that could be done to save him.

"BP is dropping, Doctor" said the nurse at the head of the table.

"I know, I know," she snapped, never lifting her eyes from the tangled mess of bowel in her hands. "I can't see where it's coming from, I can't find it. More suction, for God's sake."

"I haven't got a pulse, Doctor" Sally's angry eyes began to fill up with tears. She began heart massage to try and pull this young soldier back from the brink. Again and again she pumped his chest in a desperate attempt to re-start his heart. At that moment, she wished she could be anywhere but here. She wished she was sitting at home with her family, having never heard of this god-forsaken war being waged by someone else's country. She kept up her relentless pounding, stopping to check then starting up again when she received a negative answer.

"Doctor, I think we should stop now." Margaret's voice was gentle now.

"I know!" yelled Sally, "I bloody KNOW that!" She let out an exasperated yell and threw the nearest thing to hand – a surgical swab – into the corner.

"Take him out," she said. "And bring in the next one, please."

Hawkeye spoke then, his voice full of sympathy for the terrified young doctor across from him. "He's the last one. You deserve a rest, go get cleaned up."

Sally sighed deeply, from the pit of her chest. As she turned to leave, she saw Father Mulcahy beginning the last rites over the body. "And what BLOODY use will that do, then?" she yelled at him, before kicking open the door and letting in bang shut behind her.

oOo

Once outside in the clean-up area, she sank down onto one of the benches and released the last 8 hours of emotion in one long wail. All the horror - the pallid stench of the blood and gore, the white death masks of the soldiers she had cut open - all released in great gulps which shook her whole body. The door from OR opened, and the priest whom she had yelled at sat beside her, and put a comforting hand on her shaking arm. She sat straight, and turned to look at him. His eyes looked so full of concern, his brow furrowed as he tried to gauge her mood.

He in turn looked back into her dark eyes. They were the eyes of a frightened child, and he had seen that haunted look many times on the faces of the peoples who had been caught up as innocents in this unholy war. She looked so much younger than she ought to be, and his heart went out to her. She shouldn't have to cope with this, he thought, it's just not fair.

They held each others gaze for a moment, before Sally gave in. Another sob wracked her body and she slumped herself on his shoulder as her reserve gave way to preserving her sanity. Mulcahy said nothing, but held her in his arms until her crying began to subside. It was an unnerving experience for the reserved chaplain. He wasn't used to young woman falling into his embrace – especially ones he didn't know from Adam. He thought about the stories he had heard about the British Army officers with their stiff upper lips and inability to show emotion. It was yet another indicator to him that this war was being fought by people who had no right being in that situation, and he found himself praying as he held her, for all the lost and damaged souls who would find their lives irreparably altered due to this horrific situation.

After some time, she sat up and looked at him again, the dark eyes now rimmed with red.

"I am so sorry, Father. I am truly sorry for the way I spoke to you in there. I just…" she trailed off, struggling for the words to explain her outburst.

"Don't worry, child." He soothed. "We've all been there. Every one of us felt like this the first time we had to face casualties. The difference with you," he said, as he handed her a clean hankie, "is that you have the ultimate responsibility of saving those young men. That makes you one of a very rare breed."

"I feel such a failure, though," she said, blowing her nose. "I mean, I'm a doctor and it's my job to fix people. Death comes as part of the package, why is this so different?"

"I don't know, child. Nothing here is what is seems. You will come to realise that during your time here. But what you must realise now is that there is no shame in feeling what you are feeling. It means that you are human, and that you care about your patients. If you stop feeling, then you start to worry." He smiled at her, and managed to coax a smile back.

"Thank you, Father." She said, laying her hand on his arm. Then she noticed the damp patch on his shoulder. "I'm sorry!" she said, "You've already seen me as a blubbering idiot and I haven't even introduced myself. I'm Capt Sally Lester, BAMC."

Mulcahy smiled. "I guessed you were British. I'm Father Francis Mulcahy. I would love to talk to you more about your homeland. I spend a short time in Ireland and Britian when I was training to be a priest, you know."

"It's a small world," she said, and they laughed shyly at each other.

"I really need to get some sleep now," Sally yawned. "Maybe we can continue this discussion over a drink later on? I assume there is somewhere here you can get a drink?"

"Oh yes!" the priest laughed, as the other surgeons began coming through the doors. "I would like that very much! Now off you go and get some shut eye."

Hawkeye's worried face appeared above her. "Are you alright now?" he asked, his concern obvious in his voice.

Sally looked at Mulcahy and smiled. "I'm fine. I just… well, you know." Hawkeye nodded. "I'll feel better when I've had a few hours in bed." She stood up, then realised that she didn't know where she would be sleeping. "Eh, do I have a bed?"

Worried looks were exchanged when they realised that no one had really given much thought to that issue. Potter looked baffled.

"Well, lil miss, we thought you were going to be of the opposite persuasion, so we had an extra cot put in the Swamp with the other surgeons. But…"

He didn't get a chance to finish the sentence, as Sally linked arms with Hawkeye and invited him to lead the way. He, naturally, didn't think twice. Margaret began to stutter in protest.

"Sir, I really don't think that's appropriate, do you?"

Potter shrugged his shoulders. "Major, I'm not about to deprive that girl of sleep a moment longer. And if she can stomach that pit for more than one night, I'm sure she's more than capable of handling whatever Pierce throws at her!"

"Amen!" was Mulcahy's response.

oOo

An hour later, as she was trying to sleep, Sally kept fighting the image of the last young solider who had died in her care. She had never lost a patient right in front of her before, but she had a feeling that he wouldn't be the last. In a vain attempt to sleep, she clung to the one warm thought of the last few weeks – the feeling of Mulcahy's arms as her held her. This was not going to be easy, but if there were people like him around, she thought she might just about manage to get over whatever this war tried to throw at her. She turned over and went to sleep; she wanted to be ready to face her first full day at the 4077th.


	2. Tea Not Sympathy

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, no profit. Etc etc.

**Tea not Sympathy**

Sally Lester rolled over in bed and landed with a thump on the floor. She was not, as she had imagined, lying in the flower meadow of her parents' farm in the Hampshire countryside. As she came to her senses, the smell of honeysuckle which had permeated her dream was replaced by the scent of dry dirt and something else which defied description in her sleep-filled state of mind. She opened her eyes and found her gaze was met by two startling blue ones staring back at her, dancing with a mischievous glint.

"Hey, Beej!" the mouth below the eyes called to another bunkmate, "Did you know the enemy have started dropping female surgeons on us? Or am I just dreaming now?" The last sentence was directed at Sally, and was loaded with sexual intentions which she tried hard to ignore. She pulled herself into a sitting position.

"If you're dreaming, then I must be too," she said. Her eyes scanned the room, taking in for the first time the scene around her. It had been dark the night before when she had dragged herself to bed with the aid of Hawkeye's shoulder. After a long shift in surgery, her head had barely made contact with the pillow before she was fast asleep with images of her childhood home blocking out the images of the operating table which she had more recently witnessed.

The smell which she had been unable to identify now revealed itself to be the unmistakable scent of men living in close quarters. The stiffened socks hanging side by side with military issue shorts on an improvised washing line across the middle of the tent were almost steaming with odour. The wrinkled covers on the beds of the three men in the tent looked as though they had seen better days, and in the centre of the room a motley collection of crockery gathered around the base of what looked like a giant sculpture of medical instruments. She let her gaze rest on the monstrous contraption with its tubes and valves sprouting forth in opposing directions, and her room-mates guessed correctly what she was thinking. What the hell was it?

"I see you've noticed The Still!" said BJ, cheerfully. "This is the reason why we've lasted so long in this dump." he explained.

Hawkeye nodded sagely in agreement. "This," he said, standing and walking over towards his masterpiece, "Is the finest distilling equipment this side of Tokyo." He loving fingered the tarnished outside of the still, his eyes glazing over in mock-adoration.

"Hmmm, yes, quite!" Sally replied, unconvinced by what looked like a specimen jar with IV tubes attached. "Perhaps I'll try some later."

"Why not now?" Hawkeye sprung into action, swooping in with a martini glass in his hand.

Sally looked taken aback. She looked at her watch; it was just after 1000 hours, a little early to say the least. She told Hawkeye as much, but his reaction was typically blasé.

"You've been here less than twenty four hours, so you're still on home time. Which means it is," he glanced quickly at his watch, "eight o'clock in the evening, so you can have as much gin as you want!"

Sally came back just as quickly. "Actually, my home body clock says that it's one o'clock in the morning, which is why I am having trouble staying conscious as it is without adding home brewed alcohol into the equation. And I am also absolutely starving!"

Hawkeye and BJ exchanged a meaningful look. Sally saw this, and wondered what they were up to. "What?" she asked, "What's the matter?"

BJ came over and put a fatherly hand around her shoulder. "Sally, for what you are about to receive, may the Lord make you truly thankful. And the sad fact is that it'll take divine intervention to make anyone thankful for breakfast here."

oOo

Ten minutes later, Sally was sitting at a bench flanked by her two new friends. Sitting opposite was Radar O'Reilly who had positioned himself behind a large mound of rations and was slowly coming back into view thanks to some frantic fork action as he shovelled the food down his throat. Although food was perhaps too loose a term for what she found before her. Staring at the grey mush on her tray, she could see what Hawkeye and BJ had been getting at. She prodded suspiciously at the blackened bricks which were masquerading as toast, as though worried they it might suddenly come to life and hurl itself at her throat.

"What in the name is THAT?" she asked incredulously. Hawkeye and BJ took forkfuls of the matter which she had pointed to and proceeded to sniff at it like connoisseurs. They looked at each other, then back to their forks. Simultaneously, they lowered their forks and turned to look at Sally.

"Do you think she can take it?" asked Hawkeye.

BJ took Sally's wrist checking her pulse, before turning her face towards him and peering at the whites of her eyes.

"She's young," he said, "And healthy. But she's inexperienced. I say we don't risk it, Doctor."

"I concur, Doctor." Hawkeye replied. He pushed Sally's tray away from her, where it was swiftly pounced upon by Radar, while BJ slid a coffee cup in front of her. In her current state, she was in no mood to argue as she slipped her hands around the mug and raised it to her lips, taking a sip of the warm, brown liquid from within.

It took a moment before the full horror hit her, but when it did she reacted quickly. The table in front of her was covered in a spray of coffee which issued forth from her mouth like a geyser, which surprised the hell out of Radar. He was forced to dive beneath the table in order to avoid a direct hit.

"Where the HELL did they get this from?" she asked in a mortified tone. "Is this coffee, or have they simply run a pipe from a nearby cesspit? I know you Americans like your comedy a little wacky, but THIS," she shook the cup in her hand so violently that coffee splashed down the sides, "This is an affront to my good nature!" She sprung to her feet and marched from the tent, leaving Radar cowering and the two surgeons clutching their sides with laughter. Ten minutes later, Sally returned with a small brown packet, a teapot and a china cup and saucer. The assembled company in the Mess tent, now including Charles Winchester and Father Mulcahy, watched in wonder as she set her apparatus down on the table. Carefully, she broke open the brown packet and put two teaspoons of the contents into her teapot. She disappeared behind the serving hatch, reappearing moments later with the teapot clutched protectively to her chest. She returned to the bench and very carefully poured herself a cup of tea, closing her eyes as she allowed the heavenly liquid to slip over her throat. Her lips parted in a small murmur of ecstasy and when she opened her eyes, she was surprised to find that everyone at the table was staring at her with a mixture of amusement and fear. She met the eyes of Father Mulcahy who couldn't contain himself a moment longer. His face burst into a wide smile and he began to shake with laughter at the young woman. Hawkeye wasn't far behind him, and before long the whole table was laughing out loud at the performance they had just witnessed. Only Sally was able to keep her façade intact.

"It's not funny," she said seriously, her face poker straight, "I wasn't able to warm the pot!" She took another regal sip from the cup before she herself chuckled along with the rest of them.


	3. The First Day

Disclaimer: Oh I'm fed up with these things, take it as read, OK?

**The First Day**

Later on in the day, Sally was in The Swamp adding a few more feminine touches when there was a knock at the door.

"Come in!" she called, and the door swung opened to admit a very breathless Radar.

"Captain, Doctor, Lester, ma'am," he stuttered. "Colonel Potter would like to see you now, if you've got a minute, that is, ma'am." He almost curtseyed at her before dashing out as quickly as he'd come in.

Sally's heart sank. She was sure this meant a reprimand for her behaviour in surgery the night before. She pulled her fatigues into some semblance of order and strode across the compound to the Commanding Officer's quarters. Brushing through the office with a smile to Radar, Sally noticed with a giggle that he turned a delicate shade of pink. Pausing at the Colonel's door, she knocked and waited for a 'Come on in, whoever it is' before pushing the door open and standing before her superior with a salute.

"OK, Captain." he said brusquely, "Take a pew."

Sally sat down hard and waited while he finished off writing something before he looked up and beamed at her. Her heart began the slow descent from her throat back to her chest cavity in relief.

"Well," he said, "We kinda got caught short last night and I never got a chance to welcome you properly to the 4077th before you were introduced to the niceties of the OR."

"Yes, Sir." Sally began nervously, "About what happened last night…"

Potter cut her off before she could begin.

"Now I don't want to talk about last night, other than to say that I'm of the opinion that you did yourself proud in the circumstances. You'll get used to how we do things round here, but you've only just got here so I'm willing to make an exception." He glanced down at the papers in front of him, which were obviously her records. "I see you finished your final exams 6 months ago, and you've deferred a place at St Bartholomew's Hospital in London to come here."

Sally nodded in confirmation.

"Well, Lil Miss, I don't know much about the British Medical system, but I do know that you're the young by our standards. What in the name of sweet baby Jesus made you want to come here?"

Sally took a deep breath. She knew exactly why she'd wanted to come to Korea, but now she was here she began to wonder if her heart really was in the right place.

"Well, Sir" she began. "The news at home has been full of the war, and I began to think how awful it all was, not the whole communism thing, I don't really know much about that. But all the pictures of the young men coming home with such terrible injuries, the burns and the limbs missing. And I kept thinking, I should be doing something to help. I mean, I'm not the best surgeon. But I am newly qualified and we covered all the latest techniques and I thought I ought to put them to good use. My grandfather was a military doctor, and he pulled some strings to get me out here. And that's it really, here I am." She shrugged her shoulders non committally, as though it were perfectly normal to chose to come to the middle of a war zone.

Potter nodded slowly. He still couldn't work this kid out, but at the moment she was here and she was good, so he wasn't about to ask questions. He stood up from his desk and offered her his hand.

"Well, Lil Miss, welcome to 4077th, let's hope your stay is a happy one!"

Sally beamed in reply and shook his hand. She then saluted, turned on her heel and marched smartly from the room. She skipped past Radar and out into the yard. She was so relieved that he hadn't bawled her out for losing her temper the night before. As she walked past the rows of tents, she remembered the encounter she had had afterwards with Father Mulcahy, and she had promised him a drink. The sun was beginning to fade, and she decided to go and see if he wanted it now. She walked over to his tent and knocked softly on the door.

"Come in!" his ever-cheerful voice chirruped from within.

She pushed the door open and stuck her head around it. The Father was standing beside his bed, gathering together some items and placing them in a bag. He turned to greet his visitor, and smiled warmly when he realised it was Sally.

"I was just wondering whether you fancied that drink now, Father?"

The smile faded slightly, "Well, I do have to conduct Evening Mass first," he said. "But if you're willing to wait, I'll gladly join you afterwards."

Sally nodded happily. "That sounds fine. When will you be finished?"

"I shouldn't be more than an hour. The sheep get restless if I go on too long." he laughed. Then he paused slightly, "You are always welcome to join us, of course."

Sally was slightly taken aback. "Well," she mused, "I'm Church of England, but we started in the same place so I don't think it will do me any harm."

She followed the Father as he led her from the main part of the camp to a small area just behind the mess tent. There, someone had set up a small altar where Father Mulcahy placed a crucifix which he took from his bag. One by one, people began to arrive for the service, sitting down on the dirt while the priest stood with his back to them, gathering his thoughts. When he began the service, Sally found his recital of the Latin strangely comforting. His lilting voice sounded musical as it delivered Hail Marys and other things which she didn't understand. But she didn't need to understand what was being said, she only needed to draw comfort from the calming presence of Mulcahy. By the time the service was over, all thoughts of war had been filed away in her mind and she was left with a sense of peace which she had never experienced at any of the long Sunday Services she had attended in the cold and draughty village church in Hampshire. She told him as much as they walked to the Officers Club, and he visibly glowed with pride.

"We aim to please" he smiled.

oOo

Sitting at the bar, Mulcahy bought them both a beer, and they sat talking about their pasts. Sally told him about her village, and her parents. She told him about her brother Arthur, who was a University fellow. She told him about her education, a girls' boarding school which was turning out to be good preparation for life in camp. He told her about his sister who had become a nun, and his brothers who were more than a little surprised at his calling to the priesthood. He shared his own experiences of Britain from when he was at seminary and spent some time there. It was an easy conversation, and they chatted as though they had known each other for years. Sally found the priest captivating. He was obviously educated, but had a childlike quality about him, and came across as quite shy until he began to relax in her company. He, in turn, found the young surgeon an interesting companion. She was full of fun, and her face lit up when she spoke of her home and her history. She was also quite naïve, and he wondered whether she could know anything of the horrors which she would witness in the time she was to spend here. He remembered his own first experiences of death and wounded and realised sadly that there would be no way of preparing her. He could only support her as best he could, something which he promised himself he would do from the moment he saw her frightened eyes the previous night. He could also see she would be a welcome addition to the camp, thanks to her sense of humour. Mulcahy knew how important being able to laugh was. It was Hawkeye's sense of the absurd which helped most people in camp keep their sanity. That, and his still.

The conversation turned to pastimes, and they discovered a shared skill in piano playing. Suddenly, his face lit up.

"I've got a brilliant idea!" he exclaimed. "We should start a choir with the children!"

Sally looked at him in complete amazement. "Where on earth did that come from?" she asked, laughing.

"It's an idea I had a while ago, but there was no one else who was willing to join me. I thought that music would be an ideal way to communicate with the children at the orphanage. And if you're musical, then I thought you might be interested?" he looked at her, his pale blue eyes pleading with her to say yes. How could she refuse?

"Well, OK. It might be fun actually, and it would break the day up." She thought for a moment. "Yes! Let's form a choir!"

They clinked glasses to seal their agreement.

"Cheers!" Mulcahy said, as he touched his glass to hers

"Bottoms Up!" Sally replied, and she drained it with one swift movement.

She saw out the evening at the bar, joined later by Hawkeye and BJ. They were baiting Charles again, and later Margaret Houlihan became the subject of their jokes as they poured more and more gin down their throats. Sally sat back, letting the light-heartedness of their jesting wash welcomingly over her. This was going to be her home from now on, her stomping ground for the weeks and months to come. And despite the desperate circumstances they all found themselves in, she had a feeling that it wasn't going to be all bad.

Later on, as she was lying in bed listening to Charles snoring like a Gloucester Old Spot, she watched Hawkeye from the corner of her eye. His dark hair had fallen over his eyes and he looked so angelic in his sleep that it was little wonder than she had forgiven him for his merciless ribbing of her accent earlier that evening. She made her mind up to ask him why he was here in Korea. Despite his cruel streak, it was clear he was a pacifist. He had what her mother would describe as 'boyish charm' (although her father would call it 'bloody stupidity'). This charm was less boyish and more adolescent when he was chasing the nurses. What was his type, she wondered, when it came to women? Or was it a case of 'any port in a storm' with Hawkeye? Further thought on the subject was postponed as sleep overtook her once more, and she again drifted back to the meadow by her home. And so ended the first day.


	4. Home Thoughts from Abroad

**Home Thoughts from Abroad**

Mrs Evelyn Lester  
The Pines  
Cricklemead  
Bishops Waltham  
Hants  
England, UK

Sunday, 9thMarch 1952

M.A.S.H 4077th, somewhere in the middle of nowhere.

Dearest Mother,

Well, another missive from your darling daughter here in the darkest depths of Korea. The weather here has changed dramatically over the last few months and we are now in the grips of a horrendously cold winter which threatens to turn us all to frozen blocks of ice in our beds at night. I woke up in the middle of the night last night convinced something was eating my foot, such was the pain I could feel. On checking, I discovered that my foot had found its way outside my 3 sleeping bags (darling Radar can be terrible creative with his requisition orders!) and was, in fact, being gnawed upon by Jack Frost. Luckily, my frostbite wasn't too severe, although I am thinking of writing to Hillary in order to advise him ahead of his attempt on Everest. It's even colder than Hastings Beach, which is saying something!

Life here, however, continues as normal. How strange it must be for you to read that phrase, Mother! Normal! How can living in a tent with 3 men, whilst periodically being called to rebuild the youth of another nation be considered normal? But that is what it has become, Mother. I am rapidly becoming accustomed to the vagaries of life as a M.A.S.H surgeon. There is one simple reason for this resignation to fate, and that is if I didn't I may well go mad. It helps, however, that the people around me are kind and honest men and women who have had, in the most cases, less choice than I have over their current predicament.

I am talking, naturally, of my room mates. I know Daddy was less than impressed by the idea of me sharing with men, but I feel perfectly safe here. I think the arrangement has been successful for everyone. I have been spared the embarrassment of sharing with Major Houlihan (who I am sure would have had me on report for not taking my socks off before getting into bed), and they have someone who is happy to fold their washing and place it somewhere other than the floor. Not that I am becoming their laundry maid, I hasten to add. In fact, Hawkeye has taken to balling up his own socks each evening and as a result the rest of us no longer discover, on reaching for our socks each morning, that they have been acquired by our Chief Surgeon when he couldn't find his own! I am sure you would love all three of them should you ever have the chance to meet them. There are times when I feel so desperately sorry for them all, given that they have had no choice in whether or not they take part in this war or not. You cannot imagine how hard it is for a man who has dedicated his life to saving others and easing suffering to suddenly find himself a cog in a machine which causes that suffering on a catastrophic scale. Hawkeye is the most sarcastic man you will ever find, and there are times when you wonder if he is capable of adult conversation without lapsing into another zany comedy routine. But there are other times, one night last week for example, when we can sit up and talk for hours about this unholy war, or 'Police Action' as the politicians like to call it. I asked him how he coped with knowing that his country had sent him, and others like him, to Korea knowing full well they could be killed. His reply was that he can cope with his being sent here, but he finds it harder to accept the propaganda (and that is the only word for it) which is persuading thousands of young American men to sign up and be sent to this death camp. They arrive here on planes like lemmings, full of ideas of the glory of death in battle and the excitement of killing the enemy. By the time they reach us, they've had their naivety knocked out of them by several rounds of bullets and a good dose of shrapnel. And when we're presented with these terrified and traumatised young men, what are we asked to do? Our training as Doctors means we do our very best to return these men to the health they were in before their mis-adventure with ammunition. Except the paradox we face is that our skills as surgeons and our ability to heal their wounds mean that these young men will soon find themselves back on the front line taking more bullets in the name of a cause which most of them, uneducated as they are, will never fully understand. Indeed, those of us who are educated cannot understand. How can I, as a Doctor committed to saving lives, accept my part in the wasting of so many? And these are views which I share with both Hawk and BJ. Poor BJ, he has left a wife and young child to come here. And although there is no immediate danger to us here, you can see in his eyes the fear when an assignment comes up outside the safety of the camp. He is not a coward, but he is scared what will happen to his family should anything happen to him. The thought of your own daughter never knowing you must be awful, and I can understand why it keeps him awake at night. When he cannot sleep, I know he writes letters home to Erin which he has given to Father Mulcahy should anything untoward happen. How awful that must be for him, and I would do anything to give him the chance to go home. But until this farce is over, it is looking more and more likely that most people in our company are here for the duration.

Father Mulcahy is a source of comfort for many in camp, however. And I'm so proud to count him as probably my best friend. Daddy may have had reservations about priests, but honestly he's the least priestly Priest I have ever encountered! He's a champion boxer for a start, (which I know would please Daddy) and he's quite musically talented too. In fact, that's how we became friends. We've begun a choir for the local children at the orphanage nearby, which is going a long way to helping rehabilitate these little ones after the horrors they have faced. There are so many children who have lost their parents, either through death or simply being separated under enemy attacks. And there is another, more disturbing phenomenon of abandoned babies which have been fathered by American servicemen. These 'GI Babies' are abandoned by their mothers and face a life of uncertainty and rejection. John (that's Father Mulcahy – I call him that because it seems such a fuss to say 'Father' every time we have a conversation, and John is his given name) told me about the child that was abandoned at the 4077th shortly before I arrived. It worries both of us to think what will happen to these children once military interest in Korea wanes. They will become the forgotten generation. It's so sad, I would bring them home if I could but that won't be happening for some time yet.

Well Mother, I will have to bid you farewell for now. I'm due to begin duty in post-op shortly. We've had fairly heavy casualties over the past few weeks and just the hour I've had to compose this letter to you has been an unexpected treat. Once my shift has finished I will be off to the orphanage with John to sing with the children. I really enjoy my trips there – to see these timid little beings grow in confidence because of John's care and attention to them really helps me get through this whole situation. Give my love to Julian, and please thank him for the book of poetry which he sent. It has been round most of the camp now and Hawkeye enjoyed it especially. I copied out 'Dulce et Decorum Est' for him as a birthday present last week as it was a favourite. He is so funny, Mother! His reply on reading the poem was "He (Owen) must have liked a martini – they're never sweet in battle either" as he took another drink from the still!

And that really is the end of my letter. Your gift of tea was most appreciated, and I'm looking forward tohearing from you soon.And I send this letter, as always, with much love to you and everyone in my beautiful little corner of England.

Your loving daughter, Sally


	5. We All Fall Down Pt 1

A/N: Well, the reviews are trickling in, and they're much appreciated. Therm, your continued support is keeping me going with this. And Jas Texan never fails to make me chuckle. Koosh, when I saw you'd reviewed my story I leapt out of my seat! I've read all of your Alex stories and enjoyed them immensely so I'm glad that you like my stuff too! What happy people we all are!

This chapter is coming in 2 parts because I don't like to post too much at a time in case you all get bored. They won't be too far apart though, so sit tight! And now, we present for your reading pleasure… dah daaaaaaah!

**We All Fall Down Part 1**

"Hey, Gorgeous! Wanna come have a peek under my covers?"

Margaret stood slowly beside the bed of the young man whose wound she was checking and directed a withering glare in the direction of the voice.

"Corporal, may I remind you that I have several very large needles out back to deal with loud mouths like you."

The young corporal smirked to himself. "I bet you say that to all the guys!"

"What is your name, Corporal?" she barked at him.

"Corporal Mikey Keen, ma'am!" he barked back with a salute. "What's yours, Blondie?"

"Corporal Keen, I will have you on report faster than you can blink. Injured or not you will respect me"

"Yes, Ma'am!" he replied, before whispering to the bed next to him, "But I always respect a lady next morning!"

Luckily for him, Margaret didn't hear this last comment as she moved to the next bed. She smiled at the young soldier as she checked his charts. He had lost his left arm when his tank ran over a land mine. The lower half was crushed by the weight of the hatch as he tried to rescue a comrade. His buddy survived, against all the odds, and Margaret hoped that it was some consolation that he had sacrificed his arm to save a fellow solider's life. She straightened again as BJ appeared at her elbow. She enjoyed her doing rounds with him. Although he could be just as ridiculous as Pierce when they were together, alone she found him an extremely professional doctor, if a little lacking in military discipline. He took the clipboard of the patient and looked at it closely.

"Well soldier, looks like you'll be shipping out of here tomorrow!" he said cheerfully. "How's it feeling?"

The young man's right hand flitted briefly to where his left arm used to be. "Fine thanks, Doc. Not so painful today."

"No," replied BJ, studying his notes, "You've been lucky, no infections. You should be feeling top dollar by the time you get back to Honolulu." He looked closely at the solider lying prone before him. How could he feel 'top dollar' when his life had just lurched off in a direction which he could never have imagined before Korea?

BJ's deft hands gently felt along the stump of his left arm. "Did you have a chance to talk to our psych about this? How are you coping? Mentally, I mean."

The young solider sighed. "Well, I dunno. I try not to think about it, or try and think of positives. Like now I have an excuse when I pitch a duff ball. I never could throw a ball in a straight line, and now they can't make fun of my wonky pitches anymore!"

They both chuckled at the absurd bad taste of this joke, until the young man's shoulders began to shake not in laughter, but with crying.

"Gee, Doc, I'm sorry. I try so hard, but sometimes I just keep thinking what's my girl gonna think when I get back? How am I gonna make a living with one arm? Who's gonna want to marry a guy with a disability?" His voice trailed off, lost in his own troubled thoughts.

BJ sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. "What's your name?"

"Eddie," came the reply.

"Well, Eddie," BJ continued, "I think that, for the most part when you get back, your girl will be glad that you're alive. And then, I think that if she really loves you then she'll learn to accept the new you. Just like you'll need to learn to accept the new you. And the sooner you can do that, the sooner everyone else around you will." He smiled at the young man. "I'm not saying it'll be easy, and I'm not an expert because I haven't been where you are right now, and I hope to God I never am. But I have seen a lot like you, and I know that once they come to terms with it, the rest kinda falls in place round about them." BJ placed a gentle hand on Eddie's good arm. "Does that help at all?"

Eddie smiled weakly. "Kind of, thanks Doc."

BJ stood up and moved onto the patient in the next bed. He was about to begin checking him over when a breathless Radar came flying through the doors at the far end of the room.

"Cap'n Hunnicut, Sir. I need to find Captain Hawkeye real fast!" his words tumbling from his mouth like a train.

BJ looked at him in astonishment. "Radar, calm down would you?" He put his hands on the Corporal's shoulders, waiting for him to get his breath back. "Hawkeye's in the showers," he said, as Radar shook himself free and made to rush out again, "Hey hang on! What's this all about?"

"It's the orphanage," Radar called back over his shoulder, "There's been an accident with a hand grenade, there's lots of injuries."

BJ stood paralysed for a moment, "But Sally and Father Mulcahy went there about an hour ago…" He found that he was speaking to himself, as Radar rushed out to find Hawkeye. BJ came to his senses and flew outside after him.

Outside the supply tent he found Colonel Potter overseeing the loading of a jeep. Klinger was rushing back and forward on his kitten heels piling the back high with medical equipment. BJ ran over to them to find out what was going on.

"Glad you're here, Hunnicut." Potter said to him as he drew level with them, "You and Pierce are heading for the orphanage. Sister Philomena here says there's been a terrible accident." He shook his head sadly as he said those last words.

"What's happened? What's going on?" Hawkeye came charging across from the showers, pulling his fatigues on over his damp body as he ran.

The nun who was standing beside Potter spoke for the first time, telling the surgeons what had gone wrong.

"One of the little ones must have picked up a hand grenade when he was out playing. It happens a lot, only last week the same child came in with one. We took it off him straight away, and he cried and cried. How can you tell a child that what he thinks is a toy could kill him? He must have found another one and hidden it from us. It blew up in his pocket as we were clearing up after breakfast." The nun's eyes filled with tears as she relived the moment which would haunt her for the rest of her life.

"Dr Lester, and the Father." Hawkeye got straight to the point. "Were they there? Are they hurt?"

"No, thank the Lord." Sister Philomena replied. "They arrived about 10 minutes after the explosion. Dr Lester sent me to fetch help, while she and Father treated the children, those who can be treated… oh dear!" The Sister disolved into tears in front of the horrified medical staff. Hawkeye could bear it no more. He jumped into the jeep and started the engine.

"Right! BJ are you with me?" he said to his friend.

"Sure thing, Buddy," BJ replied, as he jumped aboard the jeep.

"You boys be careful," said Potter, "I've got Radar to send any spare ambulances up there ahead of you. No heroic, just get up there and do what you can."

"Miracles aren't high on my list of abilities,"Hawkeye said as he threw the jeep into gear and took off leaving the others standing in a cloud of dust.


	6. We All Fall Down Pt 2

**A/N:** Here's part 2. Thank you once more for the feedback. I'm glad people like Sally as much as I do! Enjoy!

**We All Fall Down – Part 2**

Sally and Father Mulcahy were singing at the tops of their voices as they drove along the road leading to the Orphanage. Sally loved these drives, where she was able to see Mulcahy shake off the confinements which his status placed on him when he was in camp. They would talk about all sorts of things, politics and their respective countries. They would chat about their families, as each was becoming familiar with the others folks back home. And they would sing like larks too, harmonising with each other as they muddled their way through songs they knew and songs they thought they knew. She knew she was lucky to have found such a good friend, and was pleased that he was a priest in a way, it took away all those nasty insinuations which she knew followed Hawkeye about like a bad small. Although fond of Hawk, she knew that a close friendship with him would be out of the question. He was too desperate for sex, and if she let herself admit it, she was too attracted to him for it to be safe. But with John, she knew she had found herself a soulmate.

Mulcahy turned and smiled at her as they bumped nearer their destination. Sally had certainly brightened up his life since arriving at the 4077th. She had sense of humour which matched his own, and a love of music which extended from opera to big band jazz. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had such stimulating conversation, nor someone with whom he could share so much. Just having her to talk to helped release some of the burden he felt at being a priest in a war zone.

"Ready for Ho-Phi's 'Oh Holy Night' again?" Sally asked as they turned off the road and down the dirt track which led to the orphanage.

"Ready as I ever can be!" he chuckled, "Oh well, at least he's enthusiastic. And the Good Lord loves a trier!"

"I wonder what…" Sally began, before her train of thought disappeared at the sight of what was in front of her. As they drove nearer the house, the sound of screaming began to filter through the trees, piercing through the noise of the jeep engine. They rounded the last bend, and were greeted with half naked children running wild in front of them. Mulcahy brought the jeep to an abrupt halt as they struggled to comprehend what they were seeing. There were injured children everywhere.

As they sat there dumbstruck, one of the nuns came running up. She was covered in blood, and had a nasty head wound. In her arms she carried a little girl of about 3 years old. She lay limp, bleeding profusely from a gaping wound on her arm.

"Oh thank goodness you're here, Doctor!"she exclaimed breathlessly.

"What on earth happened?" asked Sally. She was treated to a brief explanation of what had caused the carnage, as they both looked in horror at the little blasted bodies stretched out on the ground before them. Sally took a deep breath, and then took charge.

"Right," she exclaimed, trying to keep the panic from her voice. "John, get the First Aid kit from the jeep. Sister, I'm going to assess all the injured children. Can you and the other Sisters bring them all out here and lay them out?"

"Shall I go and fetch help?" Mulcahy stuttered. He always felt so helpless in moments like this. What practical use could he be?

"No, I need you here," replied Sally. "One of the sisters can go back to camp." She turned to the nun nearest her. "Take the jeep and go back to the 4077th. Ask for Colonel Potter and tell him exactly what happened. They'll send help."

The nun nodded in response, and rushed off to instruct her colleagues. Meanwhile, Mulcahy had reappeared at Sally's elbow with the basic medical kit. He put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"John, if you've got a prayer handy I think we could use it right now." Sally smiled weakly as she stepped forward the first injured child, and her nightmare began.

She worked like a demon, moving along the lines of children assessing their injuries and shouting instructions to those around her. It wasn't heartening work. All she could hope to do was to ease the suffering of some children who were too badly injured to be helped by anyone. She would call a nun over and tell them to hold the little ones until their last breath ebbed away. She, meanwhile, treated those she could, with Mulcahy's help. Those less badly injured were dealt with by him on her instruction, and those very badly injured were treated by both of them - Mulcahy acting as 'nurse' while they performed makeshift surgery on the dusty ground. All thoughts of hygiene and proper practice were forgotten, and she went from child to child cutting, cleaning, stitching and bandaging as best she could. For the most part her best was working.

After what seemed like an eternity they found themselves kneeling over a little girl, when there came a shout from the direction of the road. Sally looked up and saw a jeep come screeching to a halt, and she registered the faces of BJ and Hawkeye in the front seats. With them arrived the ambulances, and Sally almost cried with relief at the sight of them all. She turned to look at Mulcahy, who was obviously thinking the same thing. They spontaneously hugged one another as the other surgeons ran over to where they were. Sally quickly pulled her thoughts back to the job and did what she knew she had to.

"Nice of you to join us," she said sadly as Hawkeye put his arm around her shoulder.

"Well, nothing like a drive through a minefield on a winter's afternoon" he replied, "What've we got here?"

Sally ran through an assessment of the situation with Hawkeye and BJ, and directed the corpsmen on which children needed taking immediately. After she had finished, both men stood looking aghast at what they were facing, but swallowed their horror and moved off to carry on the work of stabilising the children for travel. BJ turned to Sally and Mulcahy before he went to his first patient.

"I think you two have done enough for now. Head back to base, you look exhausted."

Sally nodded. She knew she would have be in surgery later, but she needed half an hour to gather her thoughts. Silently, she headed to one of the jeeps which littered what used to be the children's playground but which was now a field hospital. Mulcahy was already sitting in the driver's seat. He smiled gently at her as she climbed in.

"Come on, John. Let's go home," she said softly. He put the jeep in gear and drove them away from the scene of their nightmares.

oOo

They travelled back in silence, neither able to find the words to express what they were feeling. As he drove, Mulcahy stretched out and took Sally's hand in his. He didn't have to say anything, they didn't need to speak to offer comfort to each other. She put her head on his shoulder and continued in silence until they arrived back at the 4077th. Both knew that it wasn't over yet, and there was still the gauntlet of surgery to run before they could let the world back in again. They were both still numb to what they had witnessed, but they knew they would have to face it later before they would be able to sleep that night.

oOo

Eight hours later Sally finally walked out of the Operating Room having been physically removed from her post by Hawkeye.

"You've had enough today, Li'l Miss." Potter had said gently, seeing her shoulders sagging lower with each patient and her eyes growing even darker than their usual chestnut brown. "Go find yourself a bed and get some shuteye. And that's an order."

She was in no mood to argue, and she silently washed up and changed into clean clothes before stepping outside into the biting November air. She walked across the compound towards her tent alone, before pausing at the sound of laughter and music coming from the direction of Rosie's Bar. She laughed out loud herself then, sinking to her knees by the flagpole and laughing like she was fit to burst. She became aware of someone at her side and she turned round to see Mulcahy looking down on her with a worried look on his face. He sank to his knees beside her.

"Sally, dear. Are you alright? You seem a little…" he paused while he searched for the right word. "Hysterical."

She smiled at him, and took his hand. She felt comforted to have him beside her and worried about her. She felt less alone when he was there, he understood.

"I am hysterical," she explained, "Because I'm scared that if I let the tears come they might never stop. Today was outside my radar, I have no idea how to deal with it. How do you keep so calm? I wish I had your temperament, you're so peaceful. I'm just a big mess of emotions. It's not good."

Mulcahy put a protective arm around Sally's shoulder and pulled her close.

"Oh Sally," he sighed, "If only you knew what it's like. I feel like yelling out sometimes, shouting at people and things just like you do. But I've had to learn to control it because that's what's expected of me. I don't what I'd do if I didn't have my punchbag to beat up when things get rough."

Sally laughed. "I guess it's going to see some serious action in the next day or so," she said.

Mulcahy smiled and nodded. "Sally, your enthusiasm and emotion are what I like about you. You're honest, and you say what you think. You're like a breath of air – to use a cliché. You're just, well… you're just you. And I love you for it. We all do."

Sally smiled up at her friend, before succumbing to a massive yawn which made them both laugh.

"I think it's time I went to bed. I'm exhausted," she said.

They both stood up, limbs stiff after kneeling on the hard ground.

"Well, goodnight, Sally!" Mulcahy said cheerfully.

"G'night, John." She stretched up and put her arms around his neck and gave him a peck on the cheek. Then she turned and trudged off towards the Swamp, leaving Mulcahy standing, frozen, feeling the imprint of her lips burning on his skin.


	7. While the Priest's Away

**A/N: **Next chapter is here! Thank you so much for all your reviews, I'm getting more feedback here that I get from my Creative Writing class at uni – but that's another story!

Story so far: Capt Sally Lester has arrived at 4077th as a medical volunteer from the British Army. She had a tough time settling in at first, but she's found her place in the camp thanks to her friendship with Mulcahy. After a hard day dealing with an accident in the Orphanage, Mulcahy found himself comforting a tired Sally, and she responded, naturally, with a hug and a peck on the cheek.

**While the Priest's Away…**

Three weeks after the explosion, the last of the injured children finally left the 4077th to go back to the makeshift Orphanage, the building of which was largely co-ordinated by Radar with his bartering skills. Mulcahy stood outside Post-Op watching the little girl being helped into the jeep. He was finding it hard to move on from the nightafterthe explosion, not just because of what he'd seen on the operating table, but because of his conversation with Sally which followed. Her kiss was meaningless, he knew that. But lying in his bed at night, he could recall the smell of her hair as he comforted her, the softness of her lips against his cheek. It rang alarm bells, and he'd been trying to avoid her as much as he could. They hadn't been back to see the children since the accident, and heavy casualties meant that Sally was continuously exhausted. Night after night he prayed for an answer, why did it still affect him? What did it mean? But nothing was forthcoming, and instead he put it down to the trauma of the incident and applied for a weekend pass to give him some space to think.

Sally was worried about Mulcahy. She'd become aware of the fact that he was trying to avoid her as much as possible and she couldn't work out what it was that she'd done. And so it came as somewhat of a shock to her as she walked to the mess tent to find her distant friend loading up a jeep with an overnight bag.

"Where are you running off to?" she asked with a smile.

"Oh, just Seoul for the weekend," he replied, not looking at her.

Sally sighed softly. She couldn't let this go on.

"Johnny, have I done something wrong?" she asked.

Mulcahy's head snapped up and Sally was surprised to see something close to panic in his eyes. "Why… why would you think that? What do you mean?"

"Well, ever since the accident I've hardly seen you."

"You've been busy, there's been a lot of wounded recently…" he started.

"No, it's more than that. Have I upset you or something? John, I'm worried. I miss you."

Mulcahy thought his heart was going to stop when she said those words.

"You… you … miss me? But I'm just here" he said, slowly.

"You're here," she said, putting her hands on his shoulders, "But you're not here, here - if you know what I mean. Look, whatever happened, whatever I might have done to upset you, I am truly sorry. Forgive me?"

He stood there, looking at her dark eyes pleading with him for forgiveness for a wrong which she had never done to him. What on earth was wrong with him? He pulled himself together and smiled at her eager face.

"Sally, it's nothing you've done. I'm tired, that's all. Exhausted. After this weekend I'll be better. I promise. Now, I have to get going."

Sally beamed at him. "You've no idea how relieved I am, John. I thought I'd done something to hurt you. Thank you!" She threw her arms around his necked and hugged him. "Now be careful, and have a good time. Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

Mulcahy smiled at her warmly before climbing into the jeep and heading out of camp. And offering a silent prayer for forgiveness for the white lie he had just told Sally. The truth was that he didn't know if this weekend would make him better. For all he knew it could even make things worse.

oOo

Sally thrust her hands into her pockets and ambled slowly over to the mess tent. Two whole days without John, what would she do with herself? It was the first time she'd been without the man who had become her best friend in the three months since she'd arrived in Korea. With these thoughts worrying her head, she walked into the mess tent, and right into the middle of one of Winchester's rants.

"I ask you, dear God, what twisted sense of humour thought I would somehow enjoy being cooped up for the duration with the dregs of humanity whilst being shot at from all angles!" The veins of his head were beginning to pop as he stood at the end of the table preaching to all and sundry. Sally smiled to herself and slipped into a space beside BJ to watch the rest of the floorshow. Charles was obviously on a roll.

"I mean to say, how many people here actually have books. I mean REAL books, Pierce," he countered, as Hawkeye opened his mouth to answer, "I do not count those publications of disrepute, of which you seem so fond, as books even though they may have a spine."

"Jealousy's a terrible thing, Charles," said BJ. His comment was ignored as the rant continued.

"I don't ask for much," Winchester went on, "All I want is a little culture. Just occasionally. Some classical music, an artistic movie on occasion. Instead of the hackneyed Westerns of which we appear to have seen every one ever made…"

"RIGHT!" Colonel Potter was now on his feet. It seemed he could take anyone slandering the name of his camp for as long as they could speak, but when the attacked turned to his beloved westerns it was a step too far. "Winchester, I have sat her for the last ten minutes listening to every gripe your gut could spew up. We're all in the same boat here, we might not like everything about this place but, as your commanding officer, I'm ordering you. Put up or shut up."

Charles opened his mouth, ready to reply before he was pulled down sharply by Margaret. The Colonel continued.

"Now folks, it's three weeks 'til Christmas, and you're probably getting the idea that none of us are gonna be getting out of here in time. So I've been thinking about a way to make it a wee bit more cheery for us all. And Radar here," he gestured to Radar who blushed profusely and hid behind his clipboard, "Suggested that we have a Secret Santa. Now, if you don't know what that is, you soon will, because I'm gonna leave it to Radar now to sort you all out. Radar, they're all yours!"

Potter sat down again and Radar rose nervously to his feet. He gave a nervous little cough before embarking on what he had to say.

"OK, you guys. Well, you see here," he waved his upturned helmet in front of him, which on closer inspection proved to be full of slips of paper, "I have the name of everyone in camp and what you all have to do is pull a name out and whoever you pull out you have to buy a present for that person. And you're not allowed to tell anyone who you've got, because it's a secret. And you're not allowed to spend more than two dollars. OK?"

The company nodded in silent agreement.

"OK, good." Radar began to move amongst people letting them pull bits of paper from the hat. Charles took a piece of paper as Radar passed by, and immediately tried to attract attention.

"Radar, I wonder if I might have another name please. This one is not suitable."

"Gee, Major Winchester, sir. You can't pick who you get. You have to take pot luck."

"Yes," Charles replied slowly, "But it's not going to be much of a surprise if I have to buy a present for myself, you cretin!"

Radar puffed his cheeks in indignation, but his little brain couldn't think of a riposte fast enough, and he decided to continue with the job in hand. After he'd been round everyone, Radar found he still had one slip left, he looked at it puzzled for a moment. Then he remembered, Father Mulcahy was away for the weekend, so the slip would be his. He took it over to Colonel Potter for safekeeping.

"Sir, this is the Father's slip, can you look after it for him until he gets back?"

"Sure thing, Radar." Potter took the paper and Radar went on his way, satisfied his job was done. But Potter couldn't resist sneaking a peek at the name on the paper before tucking it in his pocket. He chuckled to himself before placing it out of harms way. Then he addressed his surgeons.

"Pierce and Hunnicut, if you can cut the quips for a minute I'd like to see you in my office. You too Lester." Charles opened his mouth to protest. "OK, and you Winchester. You might as well come along for the ride."

The four stood slowly, Charles still complaining about the lack ofmental stimulationin the camp, and trudged over their CO's tent. When they got there, they took up their positions in front ofthedesk. Potter was sitting behind it, and looked slightly serious for once.

"OK, you lot. We're looking at facing another Christmas here, and I want to make sure that it passes as painlessly as possible. I'll get straight to the point, I want two volunteers to organise a party for the camp."

The four surgeons looked at each other.

"I vote for Charles!"said Hawkeye, getting up to go out.

"I don't!" exclaimed Sally in horror. Charles glared at her. "Well, no offence," Sally began back pedalling, "But how could you possibly be able to know what the rest of the camp wanted in a party, a man of your taste and refinement?"

Charles nodded sagely. "Yeeees," he said thoughtfully. Hawkeye and BJ let her down however, by hooting with laughter at her ability to placate him.

"You two, give it up!" Sally threw a ball of paper at them, which made Hawkeye fall off his chair. "I vote for Hawkeye and BJ, and I think most others in the camp would too." she said decisively. Charles opened his mouth to disagree, but Sally clamped her hand over it before the words came out.

Potter nodded. "I agree with you, Lil Miss. Pierce and Hunnicut, you've got fifty dollars to play with. Check with Radar to get you anything you need. Right that's enough, dismissed!"

Before BJ and Hawkeye could get their complaints out to whoever would listen, the tannoy crackled into life.

"ATTENTION ALL PERSONNEL, ATTENTION ALL PERSONNEL! EARLY CHRISTMAS PRESENTS FROM THE FRONT LINES, EVERYONE REPORT TO PRE-OP IMMEDIATELY."

"I though Father Christmas arrived by sleigh?" asked Sally, as they made their way through the doors and across to meet the incoming wounded.

"Ah, this is America now, Sally!" BJ smiled as he put an arm round her shoulder, "We do everything bigger and better!"

"Everything?" Sally replied, with mock astonishment.

"Yeah," Hawkeye sneaked up behind her, "Meet me in the supply tent later and I'll show you!"

She punched him playfully on the shoulder, and then the games ended for the next 14 hours. They had work to do.

oOo

After spending an eternity in OR, they finally made their way back to their tents for a rest. But, as was so often the case, on arriving in their cots, they found that they couldn't sleep. And so, the four surgeons and Margaret made their way over to the officers club under the pretence of having a nightcap. In reality, they were all still there 2 hours later. Charles was under the table with a pretty nurse from Texas who was falling for his charms – aided by his generosity with the whisky. Margaret had disappeared into a corner with a chopper pilot, and BJ was forced to watch Sally and Hawkeye getting drunker and drunker while he was due in Post-Op ten minutes later.

"Well, I hate to leave you kiddies to your own devices, but some of us have work to do," he said as he stood up to leave, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

"Aw, Beej!" Hawkeye pleaded, "Cut a man a little slack!"

"I'll be disappointed if you only have a little slack," Sally quipped. Her English accent was becoming more and more pronounced the more beer she consumed. She stood up to move, and swiftly sat down again. "Oops!" she giggled, "I appear to be a little squiffy! BJ, would you mind holding the door steady whilst I trytowalk through it?"

Hawkeye managed to struggle to his feet, and offered his hand to Sally. She rose gracefully and swayed slightly for a couple of seconds before they were able to begin their journey to the Swamp under cover of alcohol. BJ waved cheerfully to them, chuckling to himself as he thought of the headaches they would have the next morning. He watched his two friends struggle to work out which side the door opened before they managed to stumble through, giggling, into the tent's gloomy and cold interior. BJ wasn't sure exactly how bad they would be in the morning, but he would bet his last dollar that neither would remember how they got that way.

oOo

"NO! No, no, no, no, no! I may be slightly tipsy, Captain, but I'm not drunk enough to fall for THAT one!"

"Oh, go on!" Hawkeye pleaded with Sally, "Strip poker in this weather can be character building. You can trust me, I'm a doctor."

"I wouldn't trust you as far as I could throw you, you maniac!" Sally laughed. Then, a slow smile crept across her face. She had an idea. "But, I'll play strip poker with you if you agree to MY rules."

"And what rules would they be?" he asked playfully. They were sitting side by side on his cot now, and despite her inebriated state Sally found herself struck again by how stunning his eyes were, and how they lit up when he flashed that wicked smile at her. She was beginning to see what the nurses found so irresistible in Hawkeye Pierce.

"Well," Sally said, moving her face so that their noses were almost touching, "You have to agree first before I tell you. Do you agree?" He nodded reluctantly. "Alright then, if you lose a hand, you remove an item of clothing. But if you win a hand, you've got to put on the item which the other person has just taken off. Deal?"

Hawkeye laughed manically. "I love it! It's crazy, but I love it!"

He reached across her to fetch the cards from beside his bed, pausing slightly too long to breathe in the scent of her sitting so close to him. For the first time since she'd arrived, he had her all to himself and he didn't intend to waste the moment. He passed the cards to her with what he hoped was an inviting smile. "OK," he said, "You deal!"


	8. Fallout

**A/N:** And the next chapter follows – I'm on a roll here. Thought I'd share my fave Mulcahy quote and also the inspiration behind part of this instalment.

_owers_)  
Frank: What's your hurry, Father?  
Mulcahy: Oh, I like to get in and get out fast. Give the next fellow a chance.  
Frank: Oh, take your time, the nurses certainly do. Just stand in here and soak their precious bodies all over from top to bottom.  
Mulcahy: Yes. Well. (t_urns on water_) Oh, this cold water is a blessing.

**Fallout**

Sally began to stir, wondering why the pillow under her head was lumpier than she was used to, and why she was finding breathing slightly more difficult than usual. She prised open her hungover eyelids, and immediately wished she hadn't. She found her gaze falling upon Hawkeye's morning stubble. Not on the other side of the Swamp as it normally did. This time, it was right next to her. The pillow she was lying on was, in fact, his right arm and the reason she couldn't breathe was because her face was pressed against his chest. She forced herself to ignore the drumming sensations in her head and to try and remember the events which had led her into this position. It didn't take long for the memories to flood back.

oOo

"I wouldn't get so excited, Hawkeye. I haven't decided what to take off yet!"

Sally had just lost the last hand and, according to her rules of Strip Poker, had to remove an item of clothing which Hawkeye would then have to put on. He was hopeful that she would be returning his robe which he lost in the last hand. But he was about to get a shock. Sally stood purposefully and took a large swig from the martini which she was acquiring a taste for. She slipped her hands under the robe and fiddled with the garments beneath it. A couple of seconds later, Hawkeye was amazed to see a silk slip sliding down Sally's legs to the floor. She carefully stepped out of it and lifted it up on her finger, dangling it in front of Hawkeye's ever widening eyes.

"Oh no!" he laughed, "You can't be serious? You ARE serious, aren't you?"

Sally smiled at him, "You know the rules – put it on, Judy!"

Backed into a corner, Hawkeye took off his t-shirt and pulled the silky slip over his head. Sally hooted with laughter at the sight of him shivering in her underwear. He tried hard not to laugh back, it was the middle of December and he was freezing.

"OK, I'll wear it, but I need something to cover up with," he announced as he leapt over to his cot to get a blanket. Sally was anything but lenient.

"No you don't! The rules state that you can only wear garments which another player has removed!" She tried to wrestle the blanket from his grasp, which only resulted in them both rolling onto her bed with the blanket held between them. After a short struggle, Hawkeye managed to overpower her and he stopped for a moment, pinning her down on the bed with his bodyweight, their faces a hair's breadth apart. Sally could smell the sweet scent of gin on his breath as he looked down at her.

"I like you, Sally," Hawkeye said, softly, "You're funny."

Sally pushed him off her slightly, struggling onto her elbow. "Funny ha-ha, or funny peculiar?" she asked, smiling.

"Funny gorgeous," he replied with a straight face.

Sally laughed at him. "No, sorry. You'll never win me over with lines like that. British cynicism is a tough nut to crack!"

"So tell me how I crack it then," he countered, his hand stroking her cheek.

"With a simple statement of fact," she replied, catching his hand in hers and holding it still for a moment.

"Does this count as a statement?" he asked, with a gentle smile. He bent his head down gently and touched his lips to hers for a moment, before pulling back again to gaze at her with those ice blue eyes which she knew she couldn't help but surrender to. She moved her hand round, tangling her fingers in his hair as he came in once again. This kiss lasted longer, and was much more passionate. He was making her feel things she had never experienced before, and she liked it. It felt safe, yet dangerous at the same time - but there was something nagging at the back of her mind, something which stopped her concentrating fully on enjoying the feeling of his hands as they played across her body like a talented musician on an instrument. She couldn't quite put her finger on what was pulling her back. And then it struck her.

"Johnny." The name escaped her lips as little more than a whisper.

"Hmmm, what?" Hawkeye lifted his lips from the crook of her neck for a moment.

"Hawkeye, I'm sorry. I can't. Can you stop, please?" Sally struggled out from under him and lay beside him. He pulled a blanket over himself and Sally, trying hard to hide his disappointment. Hawkeye could be accused of many things, but he always respected women and, no matter how much it killed him, he didn't need telling twice when someone was unhappy with the situation.

They lay there in silence for what seemed like an eternity before Sally spoke.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, "I shouldn't have let things get that far. Am I forgiven?"

Hawkeye wrapped his arm around her and kissed her softly on the head. "Sally, I could forgive you anything. I'm sorry too." He sighed. "Is there someone else, someone who's not here with you?"

"You could say that," she said softly, "Come on, lets get some sleep before the hangovers kick in."

oOo

After she'd re-run the events of her early morning encounter with Hawkeye, Sally began thinking of how she could get out of this one with her dignity intact. She managed to crane her head up from the bed and was just checking if Charles had returned to his bed when a voice behind her made her jump.

"Did we have a nice time last night, kids?" BJ was back from his shift, and had caught them in the most compromising position he could think of without blushing.

Sally sat bolt upright, taking the covers off Hawkeye as she did so. As soon as BJ saw the clothes they were wearing, he began to laugh fit to burst.

"You didn't need to get dressed up on my account!" he hooted, clutching his sides as Hawkeye came to and realised with horror that he was still wearing Sally's slip from the night before. As he struggled to cover himself, Sally began grabbing her fatigues from their various positions around the tent. Once she had everything she needed, she turned to BJ and pushed her nose into his face.

"Nothing happened, BJ. Absolutely nothing." She hissed. Then she turned round and breezed from the tent, heading across the cold compound to the showers for a bracing dip to try and clear her fuzzy head. In her hurry to get out of the cold, she didn't notice Mulcahy standing outside his tent watching her as she walked. As she disappeared into the showers, he walked purposefully after her. When he reached the door he knocked sharply before swallowing his fear and marching in after her.

Sally was standing with her back to him when Mulcahy walked in, and she'd been slightly quicker than he had anticipated. He'd thought she would still be getting ready, but when he stepped over the threshold she had already derobed and was standing beneath the shower head, shaking her long dark hair loose behind her. She turned when she heard the door open, and squealed when she saw who it was. There then followed a moment of blind panic as both attempted to cover their embarrassment with whatever came to hand. Only when Sally had successfully covered herself with Hawkeye's robe did the anger Mulcahy had felt come surging back. Sally knew nothing of this, of course, and was merely astonished at the fact that he was standing in front of her in the showers. She shivered in the cold air as she addressed him excitedly.

"John, you're back. I thought you would have been in Seoul by now!"

"That was fairly evident," came his sharp reply. Sally was taken aback by the bitterness of his words and she could feel a knot of panic rising in her chest as she asked her next question.

"When did you get back?" she enquired cautiously. _Please God_, she thought, _Please God don't say that he saw us._

"The lines have moved again and I couldn't get through safely. I got back about 3 hours ago," he said, "I did come in to tell you, but you were… otherwise engaged."

Sally let out a quiet gasp as he said the words and hung her head in shame and embarrassment. How could she explain to him what had occurred? How could she tell him that she had been thinking of him? So instead she said nothing. Mulcahy made a noise which sounded somewhere between a snort and a sob before making his way out of the showers. Sally stood still for a moment, before flying out after him.

"John, wait. Please! Let me explain. Please?"

Mulcahy carried on his way and threw open the door of his tent. He let it bang shut behind him as he stepped inside and threw himself down on the end of his bed. It took moments before the door nearly swung off its hinges and Sally was standing in the middle of his tent, wrapped in a red bathrobe with her hair dripping wet.

"John, I'm trying to explain, please don't walk away from me." She pleaded with him. But her friend didn't look at her, instead he picked up his Missal from the side of his bed and began reading. Sally was beginning to get angry now.

"Look, we had a bit too much to drink last night and fell asleep in the same bed, that's all." She said. Mulcahy didn't look up when he spoke his reply.

"And you managed to remove your nightdress in your sleep, did you?"

"No," she countered, her voice becoming steelier, "We were playing Strip Poker, by my rules. I was trying not to get into that situation, and when things did become compromising I pulled back. What do you take me for, John?"

"And exactly how far did you get before you decided to pull back?" he asked, looking at her with slate blue eyes full of tears. Sally was shocked to see the depth of his emotion over something which, to her, was fast becoming a non- event.

"He kissed me." She said simply, "That's all. John, what is this? Look, nothing happened that I feel I need to be ashamed of. We had too much to drink, we got too close for my comfort so I asked Hawk to back off and he did. And then we went to sleep. I'm sorry, but I don't see what I've got to be apologising for. And I'm really hurt that you thought though I would do that, even when drunk."

Mulcahy sat in silence. He knew he had jumped to conclusions, and he felt ashamed that he had thought so badly of her. But his male pride – something which he wasn't troubled with often – prevented him from acknowledging this. Instead of apologising, he sat there dumb while Sally turned on her heels and marched from his tent. She stalked directly over the Swamp, kicked open the door and threw herself on her cot, much to the surprise of BJ and Hawkeye who were still in there.

"Whoa there, Hurricane Sally blowing through!" exclaimed BJ. Hawkeye was still suffering the after effects of the night before and was astonished to see her so active. He closed his eyes and let his throbbing head sink slowly down onto the pillow. He wasn't going to get much peace however, as Sally threw down her book and turned on him.

"If you ever come near me again, Captain Benjamin Franklin Pierce, if you so much as LOOK at me in a way that could be construed as even remotely sexual, so help me I will cut it off! Mark my words, you'll be on your back before you can blink!"

Both men looked at Sally astonished. "Hey, what's eating you?" BJ asked, moving over to sit beside her.

"Father Mulcahy saw us last night," she said, surprised by the tears which were now streaming down her cheeks.

Hawkeye looked crestfallen. He knew how close she was to the camp priest and he was suddenly and painfully aware of the full consequences of their behaviour the previous night.

"Sally," he said, "I'm sorry. Shall I talk to him?"

"No." she said, firmly. "It's his problem let him get over it himself. I don't see what we've got to be sorry for. It was only a bit of fun between friends."

BJ looked at Hawkeye. Although she had only been here for a few months, Sally and Mulcahy had become one of the few constants in camp – like an alternative to the anarchy of BJ and Hawkeye themselves. The feisty surgeon and the quiet priest were an unlikely combination at first, but now that BJ saw himself faced with the reality of them not talking, he realised that he would have to take matters in hand..

"I'm off to see Colonel Potter about something," he said, standing up and moving to the door. "I'll see you guys in the mess tent for a game of 'Guess What's Coming to Breakfast' in a little while." He walked across to the CO's office, ready to deliver his idea to the Colonel. He wasn't sure if it would work, but something had to be done. And he realised that he was the only one who could do it.


	9. All I Want for Christmas Is ?

_**A/N:** Well, it's been a while coming, but it's a bumper issue now that it has arrived! I struggled here, as you might notice. Feel as if I'm having to forcibly heave the narrative along to get it where I need it to be! So sit down with a nice cup of tea and a biccy and don't forget to tell me what you think!_

**All I want for Christmas is… ?**

Father Mulcahy walked into the Mess Tent and a hush fell over the staff assembled within. In the cramped conditions of the 4077th MASH, it was almost impossible for people to keep a secret for long. By this stage, most of the camp knew exactly what had happened that morning, and it was clear to Mulcahy that most were hideously embarrassed at being caught between them. He noticed with a start that Sally was sitting alone in the corner of the tent, a large mug of coffee in her hand. The fact that she was drinking army issue coffee told him that she must be suffering. He took a step towards the lone figure, and as he drew closer he could see her red-rimmed eyes. His heart plummeted as he realised what he'd done. Swallowing what little pride he had left, he walked over to Sally, clutching his panama nervously in his hand.

"May I sit down?" he asked.

Sally shrugged and shifted over to make room for him to sit alongside her.

"I realise that I've made a bit of a fool of myself. I don't know what came over me this morning. I was so disappointed to be heading back without having my leave, but at the same time I thought how lucky I was to be heading back and having the chance to spend some time with you…"

Sally snorted derisively into her coffee. "Don't talk rot, John. You've hardly spoken to me in the last three weeks. We've been for drinks, but we haven't been on our own since we drove back from the orphanage that day. If I hadn't bumped into you yesterday, I wouldn't even have known you were gone. So please don't insult my intelligence by saying that you were hurt that I had turned to Hawk when you weren't here, because that situation is entirely of your own making. The only surprising thing was it took so long for it to happen."

Mulcahy sat stunned at this outburst. He'd never heard Sally speak so sharply to anyone before, and it cut deeply to realise that it was him she was aiming at. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. There was nothing more he could say. Silently, he stood up and walked away, his head bowed. After a few steps he turned round and looked back at her.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered and he turned to go.

"So am I, John," replied Sally. As he walked away from her, she could feel the lump in her throat growing and the tears welling in her eyes began spilling down her cheeks. "So am I," she repeated softly, as the Mess Tent door swung shut behind him.

As Mulcahy walked across the yard, the tannoy crackled into life.

"Would Father Mulcahy please report to Colonel Potter's office immediately."

His shoulders slumped, Mulcahy made his way over to his Commanding Officers quarters and banged his way through the doors. Potter looked up, and wasn't surprised to see the Padre looking so depressed. Hunnicut had filled him in on what was happening, and all Potter had to do was fulfil his end of the bargain.

"Morning, Padre!" he said cheerfully.

"Is it?" was the reply. Undeterred, Potter plough on.

"I've gotta give you this," he said. "It's your ticket for the Secret Santa. You've got to buy a present for the person named on the paper in the envelope."

Mulcahy opened his envelope and immediately realised that the world was conspiring against him. The paper read 'Captain Sally H. Lester'.

oOo

The following morning, things weren't looking much cheerier. A delivery of wounded at two in the morning had left everyone exhausted, and festive cheer was thin on the ground amidst the more pressing need for blood and supplies – both of which were also sadly lacking. Unable to sleep, BJ rose up from his cot around noon and made his way to the Mess Tent. It was deathly quiet around the camp, so he was surprised to see Father Mulcahy sitting alone with a cup of coffee and a magazine. BJ poured himself a cup and walked over to where the priest was sitting.

"Hey there, Father! How's it hanging?" he said, sitting down.

Mulcahy jumped nearly three feet into the air, and threw the magazine across the table. BJ picked it up and looked at it carefully. He read the title out loud.

"Women in Fashion? Father, is there something you want to tell me?"

Mulcahy laughed nervously. "Oh, just something that was left hanging around, that's all!" He took another mouthful of coffee. "You know, I'm not sure what this reminds me of. I think it's the taste of the tea my grandmother used to make, after she'd gone blind and mistook my grandfather's tobacco for her tea leaves."

BJ laughed. "I think I'd rather have tobacco leaf tea than this stuff." He set down his cup carefully. "So what's the story with you and Sally then, Father?"

Mulcahy began to study the brown liquid in his cup very carefully. He wasn't quite sure what the story was. "Well, I think I've offended her badly. I didn't mean to, but Hawkeye hasn't exactly got the best reputation in camp. I was worried about her, and she took it the wrong way." BJ smiled in response.

"Are you sure you didn't fall victim to the Ol' Green Eyed Monster? It seems to me that you two have been pretty close since Sally got here. My nose'd be put out of joint if I'd been passed over for a better offer."

Mulcahy set down his coffee cup. When he spoke it was in a very slow, deliberate voice. "BJ, I can understand why you might think that. But I'd remind you that I don't wear these for fun." He indicated the small lapel pin in the shape of a cross which he wore on his shirt. "I'm a priest, and Sally is someone I feel responsible for. I was disappointed when I though she'd had taken her relationship one step too far…"

"And now you're disappointed in yourself for thinking that she would?"

Mulcahy's silence answered BJ's question for him.

"BJ, what can I do? I've tried to apologise to her, but she won't listen to me. I know I made a mistake when I accused her, but you saw them. What was your first reaction? I don't know why it affected me so much… but I badly want to make amends."

BJ shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know how you can get back in Sally's good books. But I do know that you'll feel a whole lot better about yourself when you accept that Sally isn't someone you're 'responsible' for. She's someone that you care about, and she's your best friend in this place. And with that thought, I'm off to check my cross stitch from last night." He stood and drained the last of his coffee and then made to leave. "I'll be in Post Op if anyone wants me."

"BJ," Mulcahy called after him, "Thanks for the advice. It's been really helpful."

BJ smiled warmly. "Don't mention it! Just think on it as payback for all the good advice you've given out over the years" he called back over his shoulder.

Mulcahy mulled over these last words for a few moments. Picking up the magazine, he turned the pages slowly until he found the item he was looking for. Carefully, he tore out the picture of a tall, pretty, dark haired model in an emerald green dress. He folded it in half and placed it in the envelope along with the slip of paper with Sally's name. Then he rose from his place at the table and headed for the Swamp.

Finally, he had a plan.

oOo

Christmas 1952 arrived in Korea with much the same apathy as it had in previous years. Mostly, thoughts of the impending festive season were limited to disbelief. They were still out here, and there was still no chance of heading for home on the horizon. As Sally huddled in the corner of the Mess Tent, she was a little lacking in the Christmas spirit despite the fact that it was the morning of Christmas Eve.

Her peace and melancholy was shattered by the arrival of Hawkeye and BJ, drumming up interest in their Christmas Party. They were spreading the word about collections for the Secret Santa which would be handed out on Christmas Day.

"Come on then, let's be having it!" said Hawkeye, sliding into the seat beside Sally. "You don't need to wrap her, just have them send her round to my tent as soon as possible. I'm not fussy!"

Sally smiled at the anarchic surgeon sitting next to her. "Haven't you learned yet what trouble that mind of yours will lead you into? And anyway, what makes you think I'm arranging your present. If I were you'd be having a cold shower every morning until you get married."

"AAAARRGGGH!" he yelled, clutching at BJ who was sitting next to him. "She said the 'M' word! Doesn't she know what that does to me?"

As if on cue, Father Mulcahy came through the door at that moment.

"He's come to marry me off! Quick, be off with you!" Hawkeye got up and took off with his army issue anorak wrapped around his head. BJ followed, trying to stop him knocking down half the tent as he went. Mulcahy had his plate filled with an indescribable gunk and sat down at Sally's table.

Sally smiled across at him. Her attitude towards him had thawed considerably in the last seven days. She still felt hopelessly betrayed by him, and hurt by his actions towards her. But in the pressured conditions of the 4077th, both knew that they had to get over whatever differences they may have had and at least get along.

"Did you get some creamed rice?" she asked.

Mulcahy prodded a fork into the bowl in front of him. "I don't know. Does this look like rice pudding to you?"

Sally laughed, and he smiled to see her looking happy again.

"How have you been, Sally? It seems like ages since we spent time together."

"It is ages," she replied. "Weeks." She paused for a moment. "John, I miss you. I'm sorry for what I did."

Mulcahy moved round the table to sit beside her. "You don't have to apologise. It was my fault that everything went wrong. I guess I just got tired and took it out on you. You're the one nearest to me, after all."

Sally smiled when he said this. "Let's try to forget this. It never happened. We'll pick up where we left off, what do you say? Shall we have a drink tonight, together?"

Mulcahy nodded. "I'd like that very much!" he said. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have an errand to run while you're busy working."

As he walked past, their hands met in a modest embrace. It looked like nothing to anyone sitting nearby, but it was enough to ensure Mulcahy made his way to his waiting jeep with a spring in his step. It felt like a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders and for the first time in weeks he felt able to laugh out loud. He jumped into his vehicle and started up the engine, and headed off towards Seoul.

oOo

Around 1800 hours, the casualties began to arrive. Sally and Charles stood grim faced as they watched the young men coming into the camp only hours before Christmas day.

"I don't know about where you come from Charles," called Sally, "But where I live, we plan for Christmas in advance. It helps to stop a last minute rush like this one."

Winchester said nothing in reply, but was concentrating on the young solider who lay in front of him with a massive hole in his chest.

"Pierce! Much as it pains me to do this, would you give me some advice on this wound please?"

Hawkeye was at his side in a second, his usual banter stopped for the time being while he dealt with a far more pressing job at hand. Sally left the two senior surgeons with their head bowed together over the stretcher while she went in to scrub up. BJ was there ahead of her.

"Well, this time last year I didn't think I would be doing this." She proclaimed as she soaped her hands and arms.

"No," replied BJ sadly, "Neither did I. It's Christmas Day at home. Erin'll be opening her presents soon. She'll be talking and everything. I've never even heard her say my name, and here I am… still." His shoulders slumped and he sank down onto the bench beside Sally.

"Oh Beej, I'd hug you but I'm sterile." This provoked a slight laugh from her depressed and homesick workmate. "Look, I know it must hurt like nothing on this earth to be away from your family yet again. But out there are some very sick young men, and it's your job to make sure that next Christmas they'll be at home with their families at the same time as you're at home with yours."

BJ gave a hollow laugh. "Excuse my cynicism," he said, "But I've been thinking that ever since I came here, and I'm STILL here!"

"I know," she soothed, "But I just get this feeling. Don't ask me what it is, maybe it's female intuition or British Optimism. I just know we'll be going home soon."

BJ stood up as the first of the casualties were brought through, and he swallowed the ball in his throat to get on with the job.

"What happened to British Cynicism?" he asked, laughing.

"Oh, it depends on who I'm talking to," came the reply as they walked through to face the worst in a long line of Bad Christmases. "And it also depends on whether or not I think they're talking through a hole in their… how would Potter put it? Tushy!"

oOo

At 2300 hours, Hawkeye finally rolled out of OR and into the Officers Club. Within minutes he was on the first of many eggnogs courtesy of Radar. The pile of presents in the sack under the tree was looking impressive, and they realised with a weary sigh of joy that it was almost Christmas Day.

Christmas carols blared over the tannoy as Klinger burst into the room dressed as Santa Claus. The assembled company gave a loud cheer at the sight of his jolly red and white costume, and the party began in earnest. Hawkeye shook off his exhaustion and grabbed Margaret round the waist.

"Excuse me Major, may I borrow your body for this struggle?" he said as he swept her off her feet.

"Captain!" Margaret cried in mock horror, "Don't you know who I am?"

"No, why, don't you?"

Sally looked on and smiled, sitting with BJ who was putting on a brave face. Her eyes scanned the room as she took in the scene before her. Klinger was still handing out presents, and Radar was keeping the eggnog flowing with his usual shy efficiency. Charles was sitting across from her, next to Colonel Potter. Both men looked thoughtful, and she knew they were thinking the same thing as everyone else – thoughts of home and what their loved ones were doing at that moment. Sally was thinking of her loved ones too, her mother and father back home in Hampshire. They would be spending the day with her brother and his fiancée. She wondered if they were thinking of her, whether they drank a toast to her, to 'Absent Friends'.

The door of the Tent opened and two Military Policemen stepped through. They passed almost unnoticed amongst the festivities, but Sally picked up on them immediately. They walked up to Colonel Potter who stood to accept their salutes, and the Sergeant whispered something into his ear. Then all three men walked from the Mess Tent looking far too serious for Sally's liking. As soon as they left, she was on her feet and following them, along with Radar, Hawkeye and BJ.

oOo

The MPs were in Colonel Potter's officer, and the three surgeons were using the tried and tested method of listening through the wall with their stethoscopes to hear what was being said.

"Around 1900 hours two of my men discovered a jeep abandoned on the road to Seoul. We're a bit worried because there's been a lot of enemy activity in the villages round there and we think there may be North Koreans hiding out. There were signs of a struggle and blood on the items we found inside. Do you have a man missing at the moment, Sir?"

Potter thought carefully. "Only my Priest, but he's not missing. He was headed to the local Orphanage. How did you come up with this unit?"

"We found some items in the back of the jeep," the Sergeant replied. He turned to his junior, "Go fetch them from the jeep, Reynolds."

Those assembled outside jumped away from the wall as the large Corporal came through the doors and headed outside. There was a rising sense of panic in Sally's chest as she remembered the conversation she had with Mulcahy that morning.

"_Now, if you'll excuse me, I have an errand to run…" _She hadn't seen him since then.

The Sergeant and Potter came through to meet the returning Corporal in Radar's office. The assembled company gathered round as he showed them the retrieved items. There was a first aid kit with '4077th MASH' stencilled on the side. But it was the final item which made them gasp, and made Sally feel as if her world were being sucked away from her in a rush of wind and noise. Her words were a whisper, but they were what everyone else was thinking with horror too.

She took the battered panama in her hands and said "That's John's hat."


	10. The Ultimate Sacrifice Part 1

_**A/N** Thank you to all my reviewers. And sorry anyone who hasn't had time to read the last chapter before I posted this. I wanted to prolong the agony, but I had to keep the momentum going! Sorry for the cliff hanger, but it ain't over yet. Readers of a nervous disposition, look away now! Don't forget to review!_

**The Ultimate Sacrifice (Part One)**

It took another hour or so for Potter to sort out a plan of action with the Military Police Officers. As they discussed tactics in his office, Potter warned Sally and Hawkeye to stay put, telling them in no uncertain terms that failure to obey would result in a serious charge. Radar was instructed immediately to send a description of Mulcahy to all units in the area. He cranked up the radio and began to talk while Hawkeye, BJ and Sally crowded round.

"Attention all units, we have an officer missing. Captain Father Mulcahy, 4077th MASH. There now follows a description."

Radar shut off the radio and looked desperately at the doctors around him.

"What do I say?" he asked, panicked.

BJ spoke calmly. "Just tell them what he looks like," he said.

Radar nodded and opened up the airwaves again.

"He is average height, average build with brownish blonde hair and…" he stopped as he became aware that they were staring at him in astonishment. Wordlessly, Hawkeye took the handset from him and passed it to Sally.

"Hey!" Radar protested, "You can't just do that, I've gotta follow procedure!"

BJ calmly put a hand on Radar's arm. "Yes, but that description matches half the GIs in Korea. Let Sally do it."

Sally took the handset from Hawkeye and closed her eyes. She knew it was important to give an accurate description in order to pinpoint when Mulcahy was last seen and where. She pictured him as he'd sat beside her that morning, with the sun shining through the side of tent and making his fair hair glow golden – like a halo.

"Father John Patrick Francis Mulcahy, RA11295403. He is five foot eleven inches tall and weighs about 160 pounds. He's of slight build with dirty fair hair going slightly grey in places. He wears army issue wire rimmed glasses, a black shirt and a silver cross." Sally closed her eyes tighter trying desperately to remember every last detail of Mulcahy. The others looked on, slightly embarrassed at the strength of her emotions as she recalled her best friend, and Hawkeye gently took the radio from her hand as she continued speaking.

"His left eye squints a bit when he's tired, and he's got a small scar by his right ear from the first time he shaved himself. He's not very good with heights, and if you put him near a piano the first song he'll play is 'Londonderry Air' because his grandmother used to sing it to him when he was a little boy…"

"Sally," Hawkeye put a gentle arm around her shoulder, "You can stop now."

She opened her eyes, and the tears which her eyelids had held back spilled down her cheeks.

"Hawk," she whispered, "I have to find him."

Hawkeye sighed. "I know," he replied, kissing her forehead to comfort her. "But be careful." He turned to the company clerk, "Radar, have you got a map of the area where they found the jeep?"

Radar turned to the filing cabinet beside the desk, grumbling as he went.

"Gee, you know that Colonel Potter said that we weren't to do anything. He'll go nuts if he find out…"

Hawkeye cut him off. "Look, you've got the map. You can either find it for us, or we can come round there and knock all your filing out of order looking for it. It's your choice."

Radar held out the map to Sally. "There you go, but you didn't get it from me. I'm going, I don't want to get in trouble." He made to leave the tent, then turned round at the door. "Good luck, Captain Sally Ma'am. I hope you find the Father and bring him back safe." he said.

"Thanks, Radar. You're so kind." Sally smiled back at him.

Once he was out of the office, Sally opened the map out and the three doctors crowded over it trying to pinpoint where Sally needed to be heading.

"They said 3 miles south east of Seoul, and it was on the road to here so…" BJ jabbed a finger at the corresponding point on the map, "That would be around here."

Sally's keen eyes scanned the surrounding area. "There's a small village about half a mile off the road, just there." She pointed to the markings which signified a small settlement. "I think he'd head off road, or if someone has him they won't have taken him far."

They paused a moment, trying to force the third option from their minds. The option that meant Sally wouldn't be bringing him back. Then, she grabbed the map and folded it approximately.

"I'm off," she said, decisively. "Wish me luck!"

Hawkeye grabbed her and hugged her close. "Be careful, and bring him – and yourself – back safely. Please."

BJ said nothing, just hugged Sally close for a moment before standing back and letting her head out of the door. As she pushed it open, she paused for a moment, then dashed back and grabbed Mulcahy's battered hat from its place on the desk.

"Lucky charm," she explained. Then she smiled weakly. "Happy Christmas," she said.

Hawkeye followed her through the door, "Have you got your sidearm?" he asked in a worried voice.

She laughed, "You're a fine one to talk, Pierce! Yes, it's in my bag."

"But have you loaded it? You know those bullet things we keep taking out of people? That's where they come from." BJ cut in.

"Are you mad?" she yelled as she started up the engine of her vehicle. "I could kill someone! Loaded guns are dangerous! I can just wave it about and look scary without actually being a threat to life!"

And then, in a puff of diesel smoke from the jeep, she was gone.

Potter heard the engine and was out in a moment. He found two of his surgeons staring at the small figure disappearing into the darkness of the Korean night.

"Is that my female surgeon gone then?" asked Potter.

BJ nodded. "Yep," he said. "How long did you think it would take her before she went after him?"

Potter sighed wearily. "Not long. But now I gotta explain to the MPs why one of my staff just went AWOL. Happy Christmas, Sherman!" he muttered as he turned around and went back to his office.

Hawkeye stood staring in the direction of Sally's jeep long after she had disappeared from view.

"C'mon, buddy." BJ steered him in the direction of the Mess. "She'll be OK. She's British. Think Winston Churchill. They're indestructible."

The dark haired surgeon let himself be led back to the party, but couldn't shake Sally from his thoughts. Or more to the point, he couldn't stop wondering what it was that made her go off after a man with whom she could only ever be friends with. And he realised, sadly, that he couldn't understand it because he'd never had a friend whom he was that close to. He glanced one more time in the direction Sally had driven in, and decided that, despite the circumstance, Father Mulcahy was one very lucky man.

oOo

About half an hour after leaving camp, Sally was wishing she'd thought sensibly before rushing out into the Korean countryside. It was pitch black and it was almost impossible to see where she was going. She couldn't even see how far she'd come. So she pulled just off the road and curled up under a blanket until a tinge of pink in the sky told her the sun was on its way up. She was freezing cold, but ploughed on regardless. The map told her that she couldn't be far away, and after a few false starts, eventually she could see the village through the trees. She turned off the engine and climbed out, grabbing her medical bag as she did. She jammed Mulcahy's hat on her head and began creeping into the centre of the small circle of huts where she hoped to find him.

The village appeared to be deserted, which came as no surprise. The state of the road told her that there had been plenty of activity with regards to dropping bombs, and the inhabitants had obviously been forced to flee for their lives. She crept around the little huts, looking for any sign that there may be life anywhere nearby.

Suddenly, a bullet whizzed by her ears. She spun round to face the direction it came from and saw a young man in the remains of a North Korean uniform standing about 100 yards away. He had a handgun trained on her. Sally instinctively raised her hands and he began walking towards her.

"What you want?" he asked, in broken English. His face was covered in scratches, he couldn't have been more that 20.

"I'm looking for my friend," she explained, "I'm a Doctor. I make people better."

"Doctor?" he asked, coming up to her, "I need you. Make comrade better." He grabbed her roughly and began propelling her towards a tent.

She was too scared to resist and one they reached the tent he opened the door. From the door, she could see an injured man, also Korean, lying on a makeshift bed.

"You fix him better?" he asked, pressing the gun against her head.

"Yes, of course!" Sally whispered, hardly daring to move. "But I'll need some things. I need clean water to wash with first of all."

The man didn't seem to understand. "You fix him first, then you wash."

"No," said Sally. "I need to clean him. Wash his wounds to make him better." She pointed at his comrade and he seemed to understand.

"OK. I get you water, you stay in here." He threw her roughly through the door of the hunt, and she landed in a heap on the floor. She heard the door slam shut behind her and then it being bolted to stop her escaping. And then she heard something else, which suddenly made this whole situation bearable.

"Sally? What on earth are you doing here?" the voice said, a voice which was heartbreakingly familiar.

She looked up and saw Mulcahy sitting in the corner of the room, looking astonished.


	11. The Ultimate Sacrifice Part 2

**_A/N_**_ Part two follows, only to stop you getting too bored!_

**The Ultimate Sacrifice (Part 2)**

_She heard the door slam shut behind her and then it being bolted to stop her escaping. And then she heard something else, which suddenly made this whole situation bearable._

_"Sally? What on earth are you doing here?" the voice said, a voice which was heartbreakingly familiar._

_She looked up and saw Mulcahy sitting in the corner of the room, looking astonished. _

In a second, she was in his arms. He held her so tightly she though he might crush her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, whispering his name over and over as she buried her face in his neck.

After a few moments, she pulled back and put her hands on either side of his face. She knew that the soldier would be back at any moment and she didn't want to waste a single precious moment of this time alone.

"How… how did you find me?" Mulcahy asked, completely at a loss at how she managed to work out where he was.

"Pure and simple luck," she replied. "Listen, John. We don't have much time. What's going on here?"

Mulcahy began to explain how he got a flat tyre on the way back from Seoul.

"He ambushed me while I tried to change the wheel, he saw the red cross on the side of the jeep and assumed I must be a doctor. He brought me here and asked me to help his friend. I explained I couldn't, but I don't think he understands." He decided not to tell Sally that, in the moments before she arrived, the soldier was threatening to shoot him.

There was a noise outside the door as their captor returned. Mulcahy pulled back quickly, motioning to Sally to stand up.

"We shouldn't let on we know each other yet – it might work against us," he whispered frantically.

Sally nodded in response, and stood up just as the door swung open and the young solider came in carrying a bucket. He set it down on the floor and gestured towards his friend.

"OK, I bring water. You make him good again," he said, waving his gun about in a way that made Sally think he didn't really know what to do with it. Close up she could see that it wasn't a Korean gun. It looked very similar to her own, in fact. She decided that it must have come from the black market, and wondered if her own gun would end up being sold there if she wasn't lucky enough. Consoling herself with the thought that Hawkeye and BJ would have informed the MPs of her movements and that they would, by now, be on their way, Sally moved over to where the wounded soldier lay.

"What happened to him?" she asked, as she cut the shirt off him and began probing the wounds on his chest.

"You not ask questions. You make him good," was the stilted reply.

Sally continued with her examination in silence. The injuries had obviously been caused by a shell exploding nearby. There were several large pieces of shrapnel embedded that she could feel. But without the x-ray equipment and sterile conditions to operate, she was at a loss as to what she could do for him. She could only try to do her very best in the circumstances.

"Father, can you pass me my bag please?" she asked the priest in the corner. It took a moment for him to realise she was talking to him. She hadn't called him 'Father' since her first week in camp – a late night conversation on their childhoods saw her referring to him as Johnny, a development which he didn't mind one bit.

As soon as Mulcahy moved, the soldier cocked his gun. "You stay put. You no doctor."

Sally turned to him with a sigh. "I cannot do this alone, I need someone to help. Please?"

The Korean thought for a moment. "OK. I help," he turned back to Mulcahy. "You stay put."

Sally lifted her bag and began removing the medical equipment that she would need. She washed the caked blood off his chest with the cold water and then bathed the wounds in alcohol. The soldier was unconscious and his pulse weak and rapid. Sally was amazed that he had lasted as long as he had. She pulled what limited instruments she had from her bag and began trying to remove the pieces of metal which she could see. Once the last piece was out, she began suturing the wounds back together, drawing together the sides of the gashes and making the young man whole again. This was the piece of surgery which Sally missed most at the 4077th – during 'Meatball Surgery' it was all about getting on to the next patient which meant never having the chance to finish the operation as she had been trained to do. Both men watched in admiration as her deft fingers worked the silk, until the wounds were closed. She stepped back to examine her handiwork, and then turned to her captor.

"I'll have to keep a close eye on him for a while, we can't move him yet." She said.

"OK. You stay here, too. You make sure he live or I kill you both."

Sally nodded in reply, and looked at Mulcahy. She knew that he could guess at the severity of the injuries, and what the chances of survival were. She became aware of the rapidly fading light within the hut.

"Can we sleep?" she asked. "It's been a long day."

She got no response from the man, so she curled up in the corner and put her head on Mulcahy's lap. "Wake me if there's any change" she murmured, her eyes already closing. Within a minute, she was fast asleep.

oOo

Sally woke with the sun, and struggled to make sense of exactly what angle each of her limbs was contorted into. She realised her legs were twisted up underneath her, but her head lay on something much softer. She opened her eyes and saw both Koreans were fast asleep across the hut from her. Gently, she tilted her head upwards and saw the sleeping countenance of Mulcahy above her, his arms wrapped protectively about her body. She eased herself onto one elbow, taking care not to disturb him. Asleep, he looked even more pure and innocent, she thought. With his glasses off and his fair hair tousled by sleep, he looked like a little boy. She could quite easily picture him as a child, tending the altar in his white and red robes. Angelic, and beautiful. As she sat there watching his chest rise and fall, she felt her throat tighten. _It's not fair, God. Why do you get to have him all to yourself? Surely you wouldn't begrudge me just a moment with him? Just one kiss?_ Tentatively, she stretched out an arm and brushed his fine fringe to one side.

Mulcahy stirred at her touch, and when he opened his eyes the first thing he saw was her face smiling down at him - a face which he had grown to love. He reached out his hand and picked up his glasses from the dirt. Struggling into a sitting position, he smiled at the young woman next to him.

"I've never woken up next to a beautiful woman before, I'll be excommunicated if anyone were to find out!" he whispered.

Sally smiled back, but blushed slightly at the pertinence of his observation. She realised for the hundredth time that the feelings she had for him would never be reciprocated. She pushed the thoughts from her mind once more, but not before she noted one thing. He thought she was beautiful.

"Don't worry, your secret is safe with me!" she said, standing slowly. She could feel her limbs were stiff from a night on the ground. The movement disturbed the sleeping soldier opposite, he snapped awake and reached immediately to his belt for his gun, pointing it at Sally. Nervously, she tried to placate him.

"It's OK, it's OK," she soothed, "I need to check on your friend, that's all." She moved over to where the other man lay still sleeping. His pulse was better and he seemed comfortable. She checked her stitching and saw that the wounds looked fairly healthy. Opening her bag, she took out dressing and more alcohol and began dressing the wounds. Then she reached in again, taking out a syringe and filling it from a small phial. The armed soldier rushed forward, obviously thinking the worst. Sally tried to calm him down.

"Please, I need to give him medicine, to make him better? I promise you, it will make him better again," she soothed. To prove this to him, she squirted some liquid into her hand and touched her tongue to it. Reassured, he allowed her to inject the man with the life saving serum.

"Now," she said, "I need you to help me sit him up. Otherwise his chest might become infected and he won't be able to breathe." She guessed that very little she said was being understood, but the Korean seemed to catch onto her caring nature and put down his gun in order to pull his comrade into a sitting position against the wall. But as Sally began propping him up as best she could, events were taken out of her hands.

'ATTENTION PLEASE! THIS IS THE UNITED STATES ARMY. YOU ARE SURROUNDED. COME OUTSIDE WITH YOUR WEAPONS DOWN AND YOUR HANDS UP!'

Sally looked at Mulcahy in terror. The young Korean began to panic.

"Who that? Who know you here?"

Sally tried to calm him down, "They must have found our jeep. People will have missed us. It's OK, just walk outside to them; they won't hurt you I promise." She indicated his unconscious friend beside her, "We can get him proper help if you..."

But the young man wasn't listening. He rushed over to the door and opened it a crack. When he looked out, he saw a dozen soldiers, and when they saw him they simultaneously cocked their weapons in his direction. Frozen to the spot, he took a moment to consider his next option. There weren't many open to him.

Mulcahy watched the young man with fear rising in his throat. He knew that they'd been found, but with a loaded gun in the hands of the enemy and both he and Sally unarmed he knew he had to worry about their safety. He knew his first priority was Sally, he had to protect her.

The soldier turned round quickly and looked to where Sally was. Mulcahy followed his gaze, and saw with horror that she was reaching over his fallen comrade and had her hand on his gun. For a split second, the two men stood staring at the young doctor, and then both rushed towards her at the same moment. Unluckily for Sally, the Korean got there first.

He knocked her against the wall and she hit her head with a sickening crack. Unmoved, the Korean grabbed his weapon and pulled her roughly to her feet. Half conscious, Sally felt her air supply constricted as he put her in a headlock, and pressed the barrel of the gun against her forehead.

Mulcahy stood in front of them, a look of calm defiance in his eyes. "Let her go, you are hurting her," he said quietly.

"No." replied the Korean. "I keep her, you go tell them to leave now and she no get hurt."

"I'm going nowhere without her, let her go" Mulcahy answered, taking a step towards him. The click told Mulcahy that the gun was now ready to fire.

"You go tell them, or I kill you too." He turned the gun on Mulcahy now, aiming right at his head.

Mulcahy looked at the frightened eyes of his friend, red with terror. She couldn't breathe properly and she had blood running down the side of her head where it had connected sharply with the wall. She looked at him, staring deeply back at him, and the feeling which surged through him in that moment gave him the courage to carry out his next action.

"I am not going anywhere without her. And I will die before I will let you have her."

Mulcahy knew what would happen next, his training as a soldier told him exactly what was coming. But it didn't stop him. He looked at Sally, and took another step towards her.

"You come further, I shoot!" screamed the soldier.

Never taking his gaze from Sally's face, Mulcahy stepped forward again.

And the Korean pulled the trigger.


	12. The Ultimate Sacrifice Part 3

_**A/N **OK, maybe getting a bit carried away with this bit as we're on to part 3. But it's still on the same theme, and I don't want to give away what happens next… and Mulcahy is about to make the Ultimate Sacrifice. Read on to see what it is._

**Ultimate Sacrifice (Part 3)**

_Mulcahy knew what would happen next, his training as a soldier told him exactly what was coming. But it didn't stop him. He looked at Sally, and took another step towards her._

"_You come further, I shoot!" screamed the soldier._

_Never taking his gaze from Sally's face, Mulcahy stepped forward again._

_And the Korean pulled the trigger_.

Mulcahy was inches away when the Korean pulled the trigger and emptied his gun into Mulcahy's chest. Or at least tried to.

As the trigger was depressed, Mulcahy closed his eyes. And nothing happened. Instead of a bang followed by searing hot pain, there was a click followed by silence. Mulcahy opened his eyes and saw the soldier staring in shock at his revolver. It took the priest a second to react, but when he did it was swift – and totally unexpected to the soldier. He pulled his fist back and hit the Korean square on the jaw, knocking him clean out. As he fell to the ground, his grip on Sally loosened, and Mulcahy caught her as she swayed gently before easing her onto the ground. Her head was still bleeding, but her eyes focused on Mulcahy's face and she smiled up at him.

"My hero," she whispered.

"I'll be back in a minute," he replied, brushing her cheek with his hand. Grabbing his hat, he went over to the door and unlocked it before gingerly pulling it open. He found twelve rifles trained on his head.

"It's OK, I'm American. I'm Captain Mulcahy, one of the hostages. You can, um, come and get him now."

"Step outside the hut and kneel down, keeping your arms up!" shouted the Sergeant in charge.

Mulcahy complied and found himself being searched all over before finally being allowed to speak.

"There's an injured man in there who needs medical treatment. And the man who took us captive is unconscious on the floor," he explained quickly as they pushed past him and entered the hut. Mulcahy wasn't far behind them.

He knelt on the floor beside Sally as the MPs collected the two unconscious Koreans and carried them from the hut. Sally had come round from her near-knockout and was watching as the Sergeant gathered up some things from the hut. He lifted the gun with which their captor had almost ended Mulcahy's life, and the priest shuddered at the memory. He couldn't believe how close he had come, and for what? With hindsight, it would have done neither of them any good. In fact, had the gun not misfired, his little display of heroics would probably have resulted in both of them being shot. But the thought of leaving her there with that man filled him with such horror. He couldn't just walk away and abandon her to her fate. He couldn't even place his trust in God to save her. There was a reason for that, but it was one which he'd been avoiding thinking about. What he felt for Sally went beyond friendly concern, or even a deep platonic relationship. He was attracted to her in a way which no one at seminary school had prepared him for. He had been forced to make his own arrangements, and had resorted to drawing an imaginary line in his head as to which was the correct point to stop. But the more he thought about the points at which to stop, the more he began to fantasise about them. These feelings were taking over his waking hours too now, and they had driven him to Seoul the day before to carry out an errand solely to make Sally smile. Oh, how he loved to see her smile.

Sally had noticed the Sergeant picking up the gun too, and called out to him.

"Sergeant, that's my gun. The Korean gentleman's firearm is in my medical bag. Can you swap them back again please?"

The Sergeant snapped the chamber out of the gun in his hand, and compared it with the one which he was fishing from the large leather bag in the corner. His eyebrows shot up and he chuckled.

"Well, that was one smart move, Captain. He had three bullets left in here – more than enough to see you both off. You did well switching it," he said, as he replaced Sally's gun in its rightful place. He went to the door. "I'll leave a driver outside for you, come out when you're ready and we'll get you back to your camp. We've radioed them and told them you're on your way."

Sally nodded as the Sergeant left the hut, and turned to Mulcahy. She was about to tell him how glad she was to be going back to camp, but stopped when she saw the shocked expression on his now pale face.

"John? Johnny, are you OK?" she pulled herself round onto her knees and faced him. "What's the matter, you look as though you've seen a ghost. Talk to me."

Mulcahy forced his eyes to focus on the young woman in front of him. His head was swimming. "The gun," he murmured, "It wasn't loaded. I though it… I thought… he would… shoot. Oh God."

He buried his face in his hands as the full enormity of what he'd just told her sank into Sally's mind. He hadn't seen her switch the guns. He really thought that the gun had been loaded, and that meant that he had stepped towards her with every intention of taking a bullet rather than leave her behind. She tried to recall how he looked as he took that last step, the steely determination on his gentle face and the tenderness of his eyes as he looked at her. She scrambled over to his bag and began fishing about inside to find his water bottle, or a hip flask - anything to administer some comfort to her shattered friend who was shaking with shock in front of her. She found a bottle and twisted it open, putting it to his lips and helping it down.

"Shhh, try this," she soothed, "It will make you feel better. I promise."

Mulcahy drank the liquid and the colour began to return to his cheeks. He smiled wanly at her concerned face.

"I'm not such a hero now, am I?" he said with a hollow laugh.

"You're even more of a hero," she replied, "I thought you'd seen me switch the gun for mine. I didn't realise you were ready to take a bullet for me."

"I'd do anything for you, Sally," he said.

Their eyes locked, and for a moment Sally felt as though she couldn't breathe properly. It felt as though her heart had inflated to twice its normal size in her chest. Those pale blue eyes staring back at her, mirroring her emotions. She couldn't be imagining it, he felt the same way. She fought hard, before they both did something they would regret, and broke away, rummaging in the bag again as a distraction. Unfortunately, it only made things worse.

"What's this?" she asked, pulling a brown paper package and showing it to Mulcahy.

"Ah," he sighed softly. "That's my contribution to the Secret Santa."

"Oh, can I see? I promise I won't tell anyone."

Mulcahy nodded, smiling, and Sally began carefully unwrapping the paper from the parcel and folding it back onto the ground. When she saw what was inside, her jaw dropped. She lifted from the brown wrappings a beautiful silk dress in a gorgeous colour of emerald green. She stared in wonder at the garment, holding it against herself and marvelling at the beauty of the sheer fabric.

"Who is it for?" she gasped, feeling pangs of jealousy at the person who would receive this from him and not even be aware of it.

"Actually," he said, "It's for you. I had it made especially for you in Seoul. I managed to borrow another of your dresses and Klinger helped me with your measurements… and well, here is the fruit of our labours. Happy Christmas, Sally."

Sally's dark eyes were shining with tears as she sank to her knees before him once again. She was stunned by the gesture, and stunned by her reaction.

"I couldn't get anything for you. The present I wanted, I thought it wasn't suitable. But… John, it's beautiful."

His reply came before he had time to think about it. It was spontaneous, because it was the truth as far as he was concerned.

"You're beautiful."

She looked up again, and once more their eyes locked. The feeling was even more intense, and Sally could resist no longer. She reached out a hand and softly ran it down his cheek. His face was rough after a night's sleep, and his hair still ruffled. He looked so handsome. Mulcahy stretched up his hand, and wound his fingers into hers. And then they were kissing. Sally leaned in towards him, and their lips met in a gentle flutter, which became firmer and stronger as they got closer and closer. Sally wrapped her hands around Mulcahy's neck, and felt his strong grip on her waist. They both felt an enormous rush of energy, as their minds, bodies, hearts and souls finally combined to complete the puzzle which they had been struggling with for months. Mulcahy was completely lost in the feeling of being so close to her, her taste, her touch, her smell. All thoughts he had been avoiding suddenly made flesh. His falling was so complete that it was Sally who came to her senses first, pulling away from him with a start.

"What am I doing?" she asked herself, twisting her fingers round as though she might pull them off, "Whatever possessed me to… John, I'm sorry. I went too far, I shouldn't have... I'm sorry, we have to get back."

Sally stood swiftly and walked out of the hut, leaving a shocked Mulcahy kneeling on the floor. He realised with a jolt what they had just done. He had crossed the line. The line which he himself had visualised in preparation for this moment. He had tried to prepare himself for this eventuality, and had found himself wanting. Goodness knows what God was thinking now. He felt sick at the thought of facing up to the sin which he had just committed, and knew that he had a long journey ahead on which he would have ample time to reflect upon his actions, and what his next step would be. But even as Father Mulcahy's mortal soul tied itself in knots seeking absolution for this heinous act, John Mulcahy's human heart was hurling itself about in his ribcage at the memory of Sally's lips against his.


	13. Ad Maiorem Dei Gloriam

_For Therm, the garbage officer, because she's worth it._

**Ad Maiorem Dei Gloriam**

Their journey back to camp was made in silence. Sally sat in the front of the jeep, staring straight ahead. Mulcahy sat behind her, every fibre of his body straining to reach out and touch her. But the slope of her shoulders told him that it wasn't a good idea. There was some internal battle raging within her, and he knew that he was the last person who was able to help her.

They arrived at camp as the light began to fade from the sky. Klinger saw them first, as the jeep trundled down the dusty dirt track. His yells alerted the rest of the camp, and by the time they came to a stop outside the mess tent, there was a welcoming committee of their friends waiting to greet them.

"Well, look what the Police dragged it!" an exhaultant Hawkeye exclaimed, grabbing Sally round the waist and lifting her clean off the ground in a strong embrace. She responded by throwing her arms around his neck and burying her face deep into his shoulder. She could feel her fragile reserve beginning to crumble at the sight of her friends and their obvious delight at their safe return.

"Hawk, I can't cope with this right now. I need somewhere quiet, please. Take me somewhere quiet."

Hawkeye looked down in surprise at the young woman. He noted her tired eyes and the nasty gash on the side of her head, and made the diagnosis of too much happening at once. Scooping her up in his arms, he pushed through the shocked crowd into OR.

"Nothing to worry about, folks," he said, noting the worried faces, "It's just all a little too much right now. I'm just going to check her over."

The Operating Room was empty when they entered, and Hawkeye placed Sally onto one of the tables. Having gathered together some iodine and bandages, he hopped up beside her and let her lean her body against his while he cleaned and dressed her head wound. After a few moments, he felt it safe to ask her.

"What happened?" he said, softly.

Sally took a deep breath and launched into a full description of what she had gone through in the last 48 hours. She told him about the injured man, and how somehow she had managed to save him, more through luck than judgement. Then she came to the part where she switched the guns, and how the Korean pulled the trigger on Mulcahy. Hawkeye's eyes grew large and his mouth dropped open at her next revelation.

"John didn't see me switch the pistols, he didn't know the gun wasn't loaded" Sally whispered quietly.

"You mean…" Hawkeye began. Sally finished his thought for him.

"He was going to take a bullet for me, rather than leave me there." She dropped her eyes, and Hawkeye immediately knew something else had happened too.

"Sal, what happened next?" he asked, part of him not wanting to know.

She shifted uncomfortably in his embrace. "He gave me my Christmas present. Hawkeye, it was beautiful. It is beautiful, a dress that he had made for me in Seoul. That's why he was there."

Sally reached into her bag which was lying beside her and pulled out the garment. Hawkeye let out a low whistle as he felt the silky smoothness of the fabric. Slowly, he was coming to the conclusion that whatever was happening between the priest and the doctor had gone beyond the realms of friendship.

"Sally, are you in love with Father Mulcahy?" he asked softly.

She sighed. "Does it matter if I am? It makes no difference, he's not on the market is he?"

Hawkeye kissed her gently on the top of her head. "Doesn't make the longing go away though, does it? Does he know?"

She looked up at him. "Hawkeye, he feels the same way. I kissed him, or we kissed. And…well…"

"And?" Hawkeye was almost falling over waiting for the next word.

"And it was wonderful. Perfect. The feeling I dreamt it would be and more. And now I've had it, I have to let it all go."

"You've got to what?" yelled Hawkeye, unable to keep his voice down. "Why? How can you… surely… you two need to talk about this."

"No, we don't," she said calmly. "What is there to say? I love you, but you belong to someone else? John being a priest isn't a job, it's not even like your being a doctor. It's his entire life, his whole being is made to serve God. And I can't be part of his life because of that. Come on, Hawkeye. Loving a priest is like having an affair, he belongs to God. I'm the other woman; I'm the temptation his mentors warned him about at seminary. How can I compete with a deity? Everything I can offer him cannot come close to what he gets from Him. No matter how much I love him, it can never be enough. Better to break one heart that a whole host of hearts – including his."

Hawkeye sat in stunned silence for a moment. Then he asked the question that he guessed she didn't want to hear.

"What if your leaving does break his heart? What if he can never go back to being the person he was before you?"

"He will." she came back immediately. "God will help him get over it, and make him stronger because he resisted temptation."

Sally jumped down from the bed and smoothed her clothes down. She carefully folded her dress and placed in back in her bag. Then she looked up, her brown eyes no longer wet, but shining with a strange look of determination.

"I'll see you later, thanks for… well, everything. And, sometimes, I wish I'd fallen in love with you. It would have been so much easier."

She kissed him gently on the lips, and he smiled gently. Then she turned around and walked through the doors. Hawkeye knew then it would be only a short matter of time before she was gone for good.

oOo

Sally went immediately to the Swamp. Rummaging around in her trunk, she found what she was looking for - her army notebook with the details of her commanding officer in Korean. Grasping it closely to her chest, she walked over to Radar's office. The company clerk was gathering his things, he was heading for home in the next few days due to the death of his uncle. He seemed distracted, and not his usual self.

"Hi, Captain Sally ma'am." He said, not lifting his eyes from the piled of papers on his desk. "What can I do for you?"

"Can you get me this number in Seoul, please?" she asked, handing him her notebook.

"Sure can," he said, moving over to the phone and connecting to the operator. "What you planning then?" he asked, distracted.

"If I tell you, you have to keep it a secret." She said quietly. Sally knew she could trust Radar to keep her secret.

He turned round, suddenly interest. She looked him in the eye and told him.

"I'm requesting a transfer. I'm leaving." She said.

Radar looked shocked. "But what about Colonel Potter? Shouldn't you… you can't…"

Sally looked sadly at the Corporal as she took the receiver from his hand and began talking to her superior. She knew Potter would be disappointed, and she was planning to write him a letter explaining her sudden decision, but not in too much detail. She was sure Hawkeye could deal with any issues arising from her sudden departure. All she knew was that there was no way she could stay at the 4077th and not love John Francis Patrick Mulcahy from afar. There was no way she could leave and not love him, she doubted whether she could ever love anyone else ever again. Her heart was his completely, and her whole being needed to be with him. And that's why she knew she needed to go.

"But why?" asked Radar, when she had finished the call. She would be gone by the following morning.

"Ad maiorem Dei gloriam," she said, "for the greater glory of God."

oOo

Father Mulcahy sat alone in his tent. He had spent the day sleeping, slipping in and out of consciousness – slipping between the harsh reality and the blissful oblivion of dreams where he was not a priest nor was he in Korean. In his dreams, he was John and she was his forever.

There was a soft knock at the door, and he called out. "Come in."

The door opened and Sally stepped into the room. She was wearing her dress, and looking every bit as stunning as he had imagined she would. Her dark hair was loose and was falling in soft, tumbling curls around her shoulders. He couldn't help himself, and he stood immediately to embrace her. She let him hold her for a moment, before stepping back.

"Sit down, John. I need to tell you something."

Mulcahy's heart stopped. He knew what was coming, but he thought he'd have longer before his fairytale was shattered.

"I'm leaving," she said.

"When?" he said.

"Tomorrow." She said. "First thing. I'll be gone by the time the camp wakes up."

He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. She wanted to run over to him, to hold him tightly and beg him to have her. Beg him to leave the church and run away with her. Make a home with her, and have children with her. To live happily ever after with her. But instead she stood in front of him, struggling to keep her composure but succeeding.

"Why are you leaving?" he asked.

"You know why," she said. "Because I love you."

His head shot up as she said the words. She loved him? "Why are you leaving, then? If you love me, stay with me." He stood up and took her by the hand. He was wearing the sweatshirt which she had her brother send over with the word 'Oxford' on the front – her university. Sally loved how he looked in his hooded top, when they stood talking outside his tent after his morning run. His face was always flushed with the exercise, and they would talk animatedly for hours. At the memory, her eyes began to fill with tears again, and she tried hard to blink them back.

"I can't, John. You know why I can't."

"Oh, Sally." He sighed, "My Sally."

Her careful composure was cracking further now. She could smell him, taste him almost. He was standing so close to her. She could just reach out and…

"No!" she exclaimed, pulling away. "Please, don't do this to me. I can't take any more, I have to go."

He caught her hand and pulled her back, pulled her into his arms and held her there with a surprisingly strong grip which she was more than happy to be in.

"I'll give it all up for you, Sally. Say the word, and I will."

"No, you can't. You think you can right now, when it's all new and exciting and wonderful. But what about tomorrow morning when you have to tell Colonel Potter? What about when you have to hand back your collar, and your crucifix? What about when you have to write to Marty Gallacher and tell him that you're no longer the man he thought you were. When you have to pull your life apart, all for me? You are a wonderful priest, John Mulcahy. And I cannot be the one to take that away from the world."

Mulcahy held her tighter. She was completely wrong of course. At that moment he would have given it up in a heartbeat. But then the guilt would follow, and he knew that it was selfish of him to place such a big responsibility on her shoulders. And yet he knew the pain she was in, the pain he had caused by simply allowing himself to be human. The pain he could ease by just being with her, for the rest of their lives.

"I will do all that, just for you," he whispered.

"And right now," she said, "Knowing that you wouldisenough."

He loosened his grip on her and she stepped back. She reached around her neck and took off the locket she was wearing, before handing it too him.

"Don't forget me." She said, "And we can write to each other. There's not much we can do wrong in a letter. You're my best friend and I would hate to lose that."

Mulcahy nodded, taking the locket from her. His heart was thudding in his chest, and he wanted to yell out to her something, anything. Just to make her stay.

"Goodbye, Johnny." She whispered, kissing him gently on the cheek.

Mulcahy couldn't trust himself to speak, instead he squeezed her hand gently. She walked away from him, opened the door and stepped through it letting it close quietly behind her.

Mulcahy lay face down on his cot and sobbed himself to sleep.

oOo

Halfway across the compound, she realised what she'd done and turned around immediately. She ran back to Mulcahy's tent, wrenched the door open again, and threw herself inside. For a moment they stood and looked at each other in stunned silence. The, as though compelled by some invisible force, they found themselves embracing each other, holding onto each other as though they would never let go. He turned her round and looked deeply into her chestnut brown eyes – the most beautiful eyes in the world as far as he was concerned. His grip on her tightened as she spoke to him quietly.

"Johnny. I love you."

Slowly, he brought his lips down onto hers and pressed them gently together in a soft, loving kiss - a kiss that both had imagined hundreds of times in their heads. Sally's hands found their way around his neck where they stroked the soft hair at the nape. She was smiling at him now, but she was still unable to keep the tears from running down her cheeks. They both knew the magnitude of what they were doing, but knew that it had been coming since the moment he had held her while she cried on the very first night after theatre. Standing in the gloom of the tent, they looked like any other couple, Sally in her fatigues and Mulcahy in his sweat top and pants. No one outside could understand the depth of the emotions which both had been fighting for three months and which now threatened to consume both of them.

"Where do we go from here?" she asked.

"I don't know, and right now I don't want to think about anything beyond now," he answered. "I can't think of anything else except you."

"Well, here we are Captain Lester. Seoul, capital of the World! Enjoy yourself!"

Sally was snapped from her daydream back into the real world. She unloaded her bags from the jeep, trying hard to forget the fantasy she had been playing in her head since she had walked from Mulcahy's tent. She knew she had done the right thing in walking away, but it didn't make it any easier. She was in love with him, and he returned that love. And deep down she knew that no amount of space or distance could change that fact. Holding back the tears which threatened to come every time she thought of him, she held her head high and walked out into the streets of Seoul, alone. But loved.

**Fin**

_A/N: And that's the end folks. Thank you to all my reviewers, especially Therm, Koosh and Major Disaster who have been along for the ride too. And maybe one day, I'll tell you what Sally did next! _


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